


Beg Me

by Janina



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Inspired by GWTW, Jon is darker, Sansa is bitchy, Sorta Dub Con, explicit - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-22 14:07:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 45,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6082248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janina/pseuds/Janina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by the epic scene in Gone With the Wind in which Rhett carries Scarlett off to bed. So we have here a darker Jon and Sansa.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a loooong time ago. It is actually a full fledged story. If you want more, let me know, or I could just leave it as a one-shot.

Winterfell, 1845

Her mind wouldn’t rest. As a result, she couldn’t sleep. Sansa stared up at the ceiling of her darkened bedchamber and sighed heavily. A drink, that’s what she needed. A sifter or two of brandy would set her to rights and then she could find oblivion in her sleep…in her dreams.

In her dreams she wouldn’t be married to Jon Snow but to Loras Tyrell instead. In her dreams she hadn’t been forced to marry a man of means as some kind of business transaction between him and her father. Instead, she would be with the man she truly loved. And the man she truly loved wouldn’t be married to some sniveling miss without a backbone. 

Her body protested her movements out of bed despite the fact that she hadn’t been able to fully rest. She tugged on her red velvet robe, slipped out of her bedchamber and padded down the hall to the grand staircase that led to the first floor. She caught a flicker of light, like that from an oil lamp, coming from the dining room. 

With a frown, she walked up to the archway of the room and found Jon sitting at the head of the table, reclined back in his chair with his head tilted back as though in slumber. A decanter of brandy and a glass, half full of the liquor, sat before him. His shoulder length black hair was mussed as though he’d raked his hands through it several times, and his gray eyes were lowered to the table as though deep in thought. 

So much for that drink. 

She started to turn back, unwilling to engage with her husband when he was in this state when his voice stopped her. 

“Ah, there she is. My darling wife.”

Sansa froze and turned round, her brow arched. “You’re drunk.”

He nodded. “I am. Have you come to take me to bed like a concerned wife?” He snorted at the thought and lifted his glass to guzzle the last of his brandy. Slamming the glass down, he leveled her with a cool stare. “Or have you come to drink too?”

His gray eyes were piercing; ice cold in their anger and, sitting there, his muscular body appeared larger than life…menacing. 

Sansa wasn't prone to shrink away from anyone, even when she should. It was a facet of her personality that often got her into trouble; it was the very thing that had sparked Jon's pursuit of her. He had dared her to kiss him at a ball and the challenge in his eyes had made her set out to prove she was no shrinking violet. She'd kissed him all right, and he'd declared that he was going to make her his. 

How much she regretted taking that dare. She should have known better. Men weren't capable of thinking straight when their lust was sparked. She had thought in time his lust would abate, but it hadn't. He came to her nearly every night, making love to her with a passion that often left her breathless. At times she found herself craving his ardent attentions. 

God, how she hated him for that. It wasn't _him_ she was supposed to want, it was Loras! 

Lifting her head in a manner of superiority, she looked down her pert nose at Jon with disdain. “I have not come to drink.”

“Well, we both know you haven’t come to see me out of concern.” He stood abruptly, nearly knocking the chair he was sitting in. “Or maybe…” he stalked toward her slowly, like a cat seeking its prey. “Maybe you missed me coming to your bed.” He stood before her, his eyes nearly glowing in their intensity. “Maybe you missed taking me inside you—” 

Her arm jutted out to hit him and he grabbed her wrist, blocking the blow. His eyes narrowed. "Spare me your sudden delicate sensibilities to such vulgar language, Sansa. You didn't seem to care much for propriety when you were found alone with your precious Loras this afternoon."

"Nothing happened—"

"I know nothing happened," he snapped. "Probably not for the lack of trying on your part, but despite the fact that Loras didn't marry for love, he would still never betray his vows. Or let you betray yours."

"I can't talk to you when you're like this," she said hastily and tried to pull free from his grasp. His fingers curled tighter around her wrist. 

"You came for a drink," he said slowly. "Come, wife, my wife you still are, and have a drink with me."

"I don't want—"

"The hell you don't. I know you like to drink in private, and I know how much you drink, too. Have one."

He pulled her with him down to the head of the table and pushed her into the chair he'd been sitting in. She glared up at him as he poured her a glass and shoved it at her, sloshing some brandy over the sides onto the table. "Drink."

Unable to resist, she curled her fingers around the glass and lifted it. With a wary glance in his direction, she swallowed down a fair amount, welcoming the liquid heat that burned a path to her stomach.

“Better?” he asked sardonically when she placed the glass back down. 

She glared at him and started to rise. “I am going—”

“You’re not going anywhere just yet,” he told her. 

She glared at him as she sat back down slowly. “What do you mean to do to me here? Berate me? Lecture me? Let me go, you drunken fool.”

He leapt to his feet, causing her to jump, and came up behind he as she sat still. He reminded her of a wild animal and feared any sudden movement would cause him to strike. 

Jon stood behind his wife and stared down at her petite form. His body throbbed with its need for her, but his anger and his jealousy kept him at bay. Loras, Loras, Loras…that’s who she thought of, that’s who she wanted. Her body might respond to him in bed, but was she with him in her mind? Was she thinking of Loras there too? Jon already knew the blasted man was in her heart. A place he longed to be so badly he sometimes wanted to go to his knees and beg her to love him. 

He put his hands, palm up, in front of her face. “Observe my hands,” he said lowly. “I could tear you to pieces with these hands…” He dug his fingers into her soft auburn fragrant hair, the strands slipping through his fingers until his palms cradled her head on either side. “If I could find a way to push Loras out of your mind and your heart I’d do it,” he said savagely. He pressed his hands further into her scalp. “Do you think if I squeezed hard enough just like this I could drive him out, Sansa? Make you forget him?”

She stiffened and he half expected her to plead him to let her go. 

“Take your hands off me, you varmint,” she hissed. 

Jon nearly grinned. No, Sansa wasn’t the pleading type. She wouldn’t cower and wouldn’t admit to fear even if she felt it. That was simply not her way. 

He released her and stepped back. Just in time too. She flew out of her chair and stalked to the archway where she turned, one brow raised in defiance. She looked glorious standing there in her red velvet robe, her long auburn hair spilling down her back and around her shoulders. Her skin, pale and luminous by the oil lamp and the moon spilling from the window made her appear ethereal. 

“You’re a fool, Jon Snow,” she spat. “And pathetic. You’re jealous of something you’ll never understand. How could you? The only way you get what you want is by taking it; you would never think to ask, would you? And then you wonder why I don’t fall at your feet in absolute gratitude!” She lowered her head and snarled, “I would never fall at your feet and I would never beg you for anything.”

She turned and stormed toward the stairs and Jon watched her go with rage and jealousy and…lust. With no thought in his mind except to drive Loras from her mind completely he went after her, eating up the space between them in long strides. 

He grabbed her just before she reached the bottom step and whirled her to face him. The surprise registered on her face as she looked up at him with those luminous blue eyes and he crushed his mouth to hers as he bent her backward over his arm that was firmly around her back. “You deny me your heart, your soul, and your mind while you give it all to Loras Tyrell,” he whispered fiercely. “You’ll give me your body but nothing else…you tell me you’ll never beg…This is one night where you _will_ beg, Sansa.”

He lifted her into his arms despite her protests, despite how she pushed at him to release her. He felt nothing, heard nothing but the roaring in his ears as he carried her up the stairs and down the hall to his bedchamber. 

He burst inside, went to his bed and dropped her on it. He stood by the bed and stared down at her as she looked up at him with wide eyes. He was thankful for the oil lamp he’d left on in his room, not to mention the light of the moon that spilled inside and stretched across the bed. 

He began to tug at his clothes and once she understood what he meant to do she flushed. And then scrambled to get off the bed. Jon lunged across the bed and grabbed her, wrestled her down onto the bed. 

“Don’t you dare,” he hissed. “You won’t deny me tonight, Sansa.”

“Let me go!”

“No! I will make it clear who you belong to.”

He straddled her waist and then rose up on knees. With his gaze on her he pulled at his cravat and tossed it to the side and then discarded his waistcoat followed by his shirt. 

“Undo your robe,” he commanded her. 

“Jon—”

“Do it or I’ll do it for you.”

With trembling hands, she undid the buttons of her robe. It opened on one side revealing her silk nightrail underneath. Her nipples were hard, pressing against the silk and begging to be kissed. Jon obliged them and knelt over her, taking one succulent breast in his mouth, wetting the fabric as he suckled from her. 

“Jon,” she whimpered and halfheartedly pushed at him. “No…”

“Yes,” he growled and took the other breast in his mouth, suckling from her in the same manner. 

She whimpered again, writhing under him. He kissed his way up her chest to her neck and across her jaw. When he got to her lips he found her puckering them, waiting for his kiss. Instead of giving her what she clearly wanted, he straightened up again and glowered down at her. “Undo my trousers.”

She blinked at him. “Wh—what?”

“You heard me. Undo them.”

Her hands were shaking less as she tentatively reached out and undid the button and then pulled down his zipper. He took control then by moving off the bed and stepping out of his trousers. Crawling onto the bed he pushed her robe open and stared down at her slender form still in the night rail. The garment was wet from his mouth on the area of her breasts and he felt the lust pounding through him, making his cock throb in need. 

“Take off the robe,” he said huskily. 

She sat up and tugged it from her arms until it fell to the bed like some kind of cocoon surrounding her. Lying beside her, stretched out on his side, Jon pulled the top of the night rail over her breasts until they were bare to his gaze. 

He covered one with his mouth and suckled as he had done before while one hand slid down her body and pulled at the night rail until it was bunched at her waist. He tunneled his fingers through the curls guarding her sex until he reached her center. 

“You’re wet,” he mumbled against the skin at the center of breasts. 

“Jon, don’t,” she whispered and grasped his wrist. 

He lifted his head and looked down at her through narrowed eyes. “Don’t you dare tell me to stop. You’re mine, Sansa. You are my wife and you will not deny me.”

“I am not yours!” she hollered at him. 

He crushed his mouth to hers to silence her and expected her to bite him. He was surprised and encouraged when she didn’t. He then rolled until he was half on top of her and used one long finger to stroke the pearl that was the center of all her pleasure. She moaned and wriggled under him. 

Jon softened his kiss and teased her mouth open with nibbles. When her mouth parted, he slipped his tongue inside and explored the cavern of her mouth. Hesitantly, she tangled her tongue with his. 

Slipping a finger inside her he pulled his mouth from hers to let them both breathe and he gazed down at her as he stroked her, petted her and teased her with his fingers. She mewled and arched against his ministrations, nearly sobbing in her desire to reach climax. 

“Beg me,” he whispered. 

She shook her head. 

“ _Beg. Me._ ”

“No!” she cried out. 

Sliding a finger back inside her, he curled it inside her while stroking her clitoris with the butt of his palm. 

“Jon,” she gasped as her head thrashed from side to side. “Don’t…”

“What do you want, Sansa?” he whispered against cheek. “Do you want to come?”

She bit down hard on her bottom lip and squeezed her eyes shut. 

“Tell me you want me to fuck you,” he told her deeply. “Tell me you want my cock inside you.”

She whimpered and turned her head from his. 

He stroked her harder and her hips lifted. Just before he felt her climax come, he pulled his hand from her. She cried out and looked at him with those blue eyes so disbelieving that he would deny her. His cock throbbed, ached and demanded he shove himself inside her. He wouldn’t though, not until she begged for it. 

His lips whispered over her cheek, her jaw, her eyes. “Tell me what you want and I might give it to you.” For an incentive he brought his hand back to her core and lightly stroked her. 

She whimpered again. “Jon…”

“Tell me.”

“P-please…” she said so softly he had to strain to hear her. 

“Please what?”

“Please…make me come.”

“How, Sansa? How do you want me to make you come?”

She shook her head. “Don’t make me say it!”

“Say it!” he shouted. 

“I want you to fuck me!” she shouted back. 

“Good girl,” he cooed as he pulled her fingers from her, eliciting another whimper. Then he straddled her, took his cock in hand and placed it at her core and teased her with the tip against her clitoris. “Look at me, Sansa,” he ordered softly. 

She looked up at him, her blue eyes full of need and glistening with tears. The sight of her tears nearly compelled him to stop, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t until he gave them what they both wanted. And he knew she wanted it. They both knew that if she really wanted him to stop she could have ended it. She knew he wouldn’t rape her. She just didn’t like taking a blow to her pride. 

Well, he didn’t like all the blows to his that she dealt him. Turnabout was fair play as far as he was concerned. 

“Tell me to put it inside you,” he demanded. “Beg me.” He circled her clit with the head of his cock and watched as her eyes fluttered shut and a tremor went through her body. 

“Please, Jon—”

“Look at me.”

Her eyes popped open. 

“Now say it,” he said. 

“Please, come inside me,” she pleaded. “I want you inside me; I want you to make me come.”

He rubbed her harder. 

“Please, Jon, please!” she cried desperately. 

That was it. Jon plunged inside her and they both lost their breath. She arched up to him as he pulled back and then lunged back in again. 

“Yes, yes,” she whispered and grasped his biceps with her small hands. 

Pulling back until just the head was inside her, he stared down at her, his eyes roving over her possessively. “You’re mine, Sansa. Do you understand that? Do you hear that? You. Are. _Mine._ ” He pushed just a little bit of his cock inside her and she squirmed, trying to get more of him inside her. “Say it. Say you’re mine.”

She looked up at him with wide eyes and he could see the refusal forming on her lips. So, he started to pull out of her. 

“I’m yours!” she exclaimed. 

He knew the satisfaction of hearing her say those words would be short-lived, but for the moment, they meant everything. His need, his desire, passion and all-consuming love for her all clamored together inside him and he lost what little control he possessed. He pounded inside her, angling his hips in such a way to make sure he stimulated her so he could grant her release. 

When she came it was with a scream and it was shortly thereafter that Jon came too. After his seed had finished spurting deep inside her, he collapsed against her glistening and trembling body and buried his face in her neck. He wanted to speak to her of his love for her, wanted to apologize for how savagely he took her, but the only words that spilled from his mouth in a hoarse whisper were, “I made you beg."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I kind of think of this as a salty teens story...I mean if you squint a little lol. I guess sometimes I'm just in the mood for a darker Jon and a feisty Sansa. Obvi, if this characterization is too OOC for you, you don't have to read it. Sometimes I just need a Jon with a little grrr lol.

Jon woke up slowly, feeling a dull ache in his head and a dry mouth that felt as though cotton had been stuffed into it. He moaned and rolled onto his side. Slowly, memories of the night before flashed through his mind. Brandy…Sansa…an argument…and then, finally, he had made love to her. No, he hadn’t made love to her. He’d _possessed_ her, taken her almost like a wild animal.

And he’d driven her to the point of begging. 

A grin started to spread across his face. So, his independent wife wasn’t above begging him for anything after all. She’d wanted him, badly. She might not love him, care for him, or hell, even _like_ him, but she liked what he could do to her body well enough. 

His grin faded slowly as he tried to convince himself that was enough. But it wasn’t, and he knew it. He wanted all of her. Every inch. He wanted not only her body, but her heart and her soul.

Staring at the empty spot beside him in bed, he thought miserably that he couldn’t even keep her in bed with him. The night before there had been a few times when she’d attempted to leave him and he’d rolled over onto her and made love to her again and again until she was too exhausted to move. 

Not for the first time Jon wondered what he’d possibly done so terribly wrong in his life to warrant this endless suffering of loving a woman that was in love with someone else and made no bones about it. And what was he to do about it? How could he make her love him the way he loved her? How could he make her heart tremble the way he made her body tremble?

With a curse, Jon climbed out of bed and tugged on the bell pull for his manservant. He needed headache powder, coffee, and a bath. And he needed to find his wife. 

************

Sansa leaned further over her horse and pressed her heels into Lady’s side. Lady galloped harder and Sansa smiled in triumph at the feel of the wind in her hair. It was decidedly improper for her to have left the house without a bonnet, but she didn’t care. What was the point in caring about proprieties now? Especially now since an embrace between her and Loras the day before had caused rumors to fly rampantly through town. 

The embrace had not been romantic, certainly not the sort that would have led to a passionate kiss and quite honestly Sansa didn’t know how she would have felt if it had been that sort of embrace. Could she have cheated on Jon like that? She might spout how she wished she hadn’t been saddled to him, but that didn’t mean she could actually follow through with an affair. However, being in love with one man while married to another was a form of cheating in and of itself, was it not?

In any case, Loras had sought to comfort her after she had burst into tears upon the news that he and his wife were expecting a child. The tears had burst forth with the realization that this wasn’t some bad dream she was going to wake up from. Loras was married, she was married, and it was not to each other. There was no hope for them, not with Loras planning to have babies with his wife. 

Being a gentleman and an old friend, Loras had sought to comfort her by embracing her as she wept. But then they had been seen by the town gossip who had dropped by the Tyrell residence to see Loras’s wife.

And from there, it went through the town like wildfire. Leave it to Cersei Lannister to take something moderately innocent and turn it into something scandalous and tawdry. What had shaken Sansa to the core was the fleeting moment she had actually worried about Jon hearing. Not for fear of what he would do, but for fear of how he would _feel._

She decided right then and there she had a new reason to hate him, and had made the conscious choice not to care what Jon felt about the rumor. But she had. And then, last night, he’d taken her and…and she’d begged him to. 

Sansa shivered at the memory of how passionate their tryst had been the night before, how he’d moved so strongly inside her, how he'd touched her until she thought she’d go mad…

She was about to dig her heels into Lady again, to urge her toward the small stone wall up the way a piece when she heard her name being shouted. Slowing Lady down by tugging on her reigns, she turned her head and found Jon whipping across the field toward her. She set her face into a scowl at the feel of her heart kicking up at the sight of him. 

“What do you want?” she asked once he’d approached atop his horse, Ghost. 

“For you to slow down,” he returned with a frown. “You’re going at break neck speed—”

“I can control my horse,” she snapped. 

“Sansa, I know how reckless you can be when you’re in a foul mood.”

She arched a brow. “Who said I was in a foul mood?”

He looked at her pointedly. “What other mood would you be in after I made you beg last night?”

That did it. If he thought she would listen to him now he was dead wrong. With a cry of rage, Sansa hit Lady with her heels and the horse immediately started into a gallop, gaining speed as she went. 

Jon cursed as he watched her take off. What had he been thinking by saying that? He should have known she’d react by doing the exact opposite of what he’d asked. He watched Lady gain speed and then he saw the stone wall they were heading towards in the distance. Lady was a good horse, but not adept at jumps. She’d toss Sansa off and at that speed…

Jon urged Ghost into a full gallop. “Sansa!” he shouted urgently. “Sansa, stop!”

The little she-devil glanced over her shoulder at him and then bent over Lady, preparing herself to take that jump. 

The closer she got to the wall, the harder Jon’s heart pounded. Panic set in and he could not get the sight of her being tossed from Lady and her neck ending up twisted out of his head. “Sansa, don’t!” he screamed. 

But she did. 

And Lady cleared the wall with no trouble. 

When Jon and Ghost finally made it over the wall, he found Sansa climbing off Lady with a broad smile on her face. She was reaching into the pockets of her skirts, no doubt for treats for Lady.

Jon halted Ghost to a stop and climbed off him. He stormed over to Sansa who smiled triumphantly at him. “You see how well Lady took that jump? And you thought the old girl couldn’t do it, but—”

Jon grabbed her about the shoulders and shook her, jarring the oats from small hand. “Don’t you bloody do that again!” he shouted at her. “You could have been killed! You had no way of knowing that Lady would have been able to make that jump, you little fool. You will not do such a thing again, do you understand me?”

Sansa pushed him off her with all her might and glared at him. “Don’t touch me, you brute! You will not tell me what to do. If I want to take Lady out and we clear that jump a hundred times, you cannot stop me!”

“Yes, I can,” he growled and grabbed her again. He yanked her against his hard body and leaned down until they were nose to nose. “You stubborn, hard-headed chit, can’t you see that I only wish to protect you? You could have broken your neck and robbed me of the pleasure of doing it for you.”

She shoved at him again, but he would not let go. Instead, he turned her around and pushed her to the ground. Dropping to his knees behind her, he started undoing the plackard of his trousers, his only thought being to assuage himself that she hadn’t indeed broken her neck and killed herself. 

Looking over her shoulder at him, her eyes widened as she instantly realized his intent. She started crawling away from him quickly and he grabbed her and pushed her to the ground again as he fumbled with her skirts. 

“My naughty wife. You’re not wearing your drawers,” he purred in her ear. 

“Jon, don’t,” she said breathlessly. 

Shoving her chemise out of the way, he found the core of her and instantly his touch turned gentle as he teased her with his fingers. “Sansa,” he whispered reverently. 

“Jon,” she whimpered and turned her face into the grass. 

“I won’t make you beg…” he told her. She whimpered as he stroked her nubbin gently, steadily. “You’re wet, my heart.”

She gasped as one long finger found its way inside her, and then cried out when another finger joined the first. 

“You don’t have to answer, not with words…just tell me…do you want me to stop?” he muttered against her ear. She whimpered again and Jon pressed ardent kisses at the nape of her neck. “My love, I won’t lord it over you and taunt you…just tell me I can come inside you now. Please.”

After a long, torturous moment, she nodded. 

Jon extracted his fingers, took his cock in hand and surged inside her. She sheathed him inside her like a hot, wet glove and he moaned at the feel of her. Every time was like the first time. 

Pulling her to her knees gently, Jon grabbed her hips, bent over her so he could press kisses against her clothed back and started thrusting steadily inside her. 

“Please don’t risk your life in anger like that again,” he murmured against her neck. “Oh, yes, my love, just like that, squeeze me inside you…”

She let out a sob as her nails dug into the ground beneath her and the sight had Jon moving faster, harder, inside her. 

“My wife,” he muttered. “Mine, mine, mine…”

She cried out again, tossing her head back as she did and her walls clamped down around his cock, milking his seed from him. 

Jon roared as he held himself deep inside her spilled his seed to her waiting womb. Sansa’s knees gave out and she fell to the Earth, Jon collapsing first against her and then rolling them to their sides with him still inside her. He held her tightly against his chest, his hand lying possessively over her stomach. 

“Promise me you won’t risk your life again,” he whispered against her ear. 

She shivered, but said nothing. His hold tightened. “Promise me,” he commanded. 

Softly, her voice cracking, she said, “I promise.” 

“Thank you,” he whispered and pressed kisses along her sleek neck. “Believe it or not, Sansa, I couldn’t bear for anything to happen to you. And there you are, my heart. Now you have something to lord over me and taunt me about.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, everyone! :)

_“Believe it or not, Sansa, I couldn’t bear for anything to happen to you. And there you are, my heart. Now you have something to lord over me and taunt me about.”_

Jon’s words spoken so passionately had clung with her all day, along with the frantic look in his eyes when he’d approached her after she’d had Lady jump that wall, plus the possessiveness in his eyes and in his touch. Each and every time she thought of how he’d touched her, she’d shivered. 

And what was worse? She had wanted it. Badly. 

What was happening to her? What was he doing to her? Had she turned into some kind of wanton trollop? Would she have been this way for Loras as she was for Jon? Shutting her eyes tight, she tried to imagine Loras taking her the way Jon did and she couldn’t imagine it…all she could see was Jon caressing her, kissing her, teasing her…taking her. 

“Sansa.”

Starting, Sansa opened her eyes and turned her head to find Jon coming up the hill toward her favorite spot on his – their – estate. It was perched high on a hill with the valley of land spread far and wide before her and a trio of rather large boulders that served as seats. Jon had told her he’d discovered them while perusing his property and wasn’t sure if they had been placed in position or simply left behind. If one turned their head back toward the estate, they could make out the vast, three story stone structure, but from this distance it looked small and not so imposing. 

She sat up straighter, stiffened her back and pursed her lips together. “Yes?” she asked, but looked back over the lush rolling hills and not at her approaching husband. 

“Are you all right?”

Was that concern she heard in his voice? Shame? She looked at him with an arched brow and said defiantly, “It was not I who was troubled by my jump with Lady this morning. It was you.”

He sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “You know that’s not what I—”

“Nothing you do surprises me anymore,” she muttered before he could finish. “I’m fine.”

He heaved another sigh and nodded. “It’s getting late. We need to prepare for the Greyjoy ball.”

Sansa made a face and shook her head. “I’m not going.”

“Excuse me?”

She looked at him pointedly. “I’m. Not. Going.”

“And why not?”

“Because I don’t wish to,” she said haughtily. “I have better things to do with my time than rub elbows with those simpletons.”

Jon’s eyes narrowed. “That so? You do know that Loras is going to be there as well, right?”

She shrugged, hoping it came off as nonchalant and looked back at the landscape. 

“Let’s call a spade a spade, Sansa. You enjoy a ball as much as the next woman. The reason you don’t want to go tonight is because of what Cersei witnessed yesterday. It’s not the ball you wish to avoid, it’s the scandal.”

She jumped up from the boulder she had perched on and faced him, shaking with anger. “Nothing happened! What that busy body saw was – was nothing!”

Jon’s eyes narrowed. “Nothing, you say? It had to be something. So, enlighten me, Sansa. Tell me exactly what the nothing she saw was.”

“I was upset and being a gentleman – something you clearly know nothing about – Loras sought to comfort me.”

His expression darkened and he took a step toward her. She took a step back and glared at him. “I don’t like the familiarity in which you refer to him.”

“I’ve known him for a very long time. Longer than I’ve known you!”

“Sansa,” he began warningly. 

“You cannot take control of every aspect of my life.” Her eyes narrowed and she smirked. “And doesn’t that just kill you?”

Jon gritted his teeth and took a step toward her. She took a step back and sneered, “Besides, you act _very_ familiar with that Ygritte woman. Perhaps you should pay her more attention and me less.”

“Not bloody likely. Jealous, Sansa?” he sneered. 

She smirked and his eyes glittered dangerously; instinctively he knew her retort was not going to please him. “Don’t you just wish that were the case? I don’t care what you do, Jon.”

“Now I know that’s not true. You wouldn’t have brought Ygritte up if it didn’t bother you. And considering how you begged me so prettily and _lustfully_ last night, I don’t think you’d be happy if I took my attentions elsewhere.”

“May the devil take you,” she fumed. 

“If the devil takes me, I’ll make sure you’re right beside me,” he vowed. He leaned forward and met her gaze straight on. “You’ll never escape me, Sansa. You’re mine.”

“I’ll never belong to you,” she sneered. 

“Our marriage certificate says otherwise, madam,” he told her. 

“A piece of flimsy paper,” she said dismissively. “That’s all you’ll ever get of me.”

“You speak high and mighty when I’m not between your thighs. I have more of you than you think.”

Her eyes narrowed. “But not the one thing you want.”

Fury exploded behind his eyes and he grabbed her and hauled her up against him. “Get inside, Sansa, and get ready for the ball. You’re going, damn you, even if I have to drag you out of here by your hair. And by God you will not make a fool of me tonight or you’ll live to regret it.”

She shoved herself out of his arms and looked at him in contempt. “I already regret every minute I’ve ever spent with you,” she declared venomously before turning and running toward the house. 

Jon watched her race back to the house and tried to quell the desire to rush after her and call her bluff. She might hate him with her words, but her body didn’t hate him. He supposed that was what angered her most of all: her reaction to him, the combustible passion between them that certainly took her by surprise as much as it did him. It was something Jon was certain she would never have had with Loras, much as she’d like to think she would. 

It was cold comfort though, Jon had to admit. He might have her as his wife, he might be able to claim her body and revel in her passionate responses to him, but he didn’t have her heart. And just as Sansa had said, that was the one thing he wanted and would never get. 

As far was Jon was concerned the devil already had him for it was pure hell to love someone as much as he loved Sansa and realize that she would never truly be his. 

*************

Jon separated himself from the crush of the ball and stood in the corner of the ballroom, watching his wife smile, wave her fan and laugh as though she hadn’t a care in the world. As though she hadn’t rutted with him in the open field of their land and broken his heart earlier that afternoon. 

Sansa had worn a red velvet dress that night, a dress that clung to her curves and dipped low on her bosom, showing off her assets just enough to drive the men around her to distraction. It wasn’t the other men that Jon had to worry about though, for while Sansa might smile and flirt with them it was done with an emptiness that was purely surface and meant absolutely nothing. 

It was when she turned those blue eyes and pouting lips to Loras did Jon feel cause to worry. That one she cared about. That one wasn’t purely surface. 

However, Loras had been a good boy that night and stayed the hell away from Sansa. If she was on one side of the room, then he was on the other and his gaze did not stray to her more than a few times. 

Jon wished he could say the same about Sansa. 

“Mr. Snow.”

Speak of the devil. Jon straightened, gripped his wine glass tighter and looked blankly at Loras. “Mr. Tyrell.”

Loras cast his eyes to the floor and then straightened his broad shoulders and looked directly at Jon. “I apologize for any misunderstanding that may have occurred between you and your wife following our visit yesterday.”

Jon leaned back against the wall and eyed him warily. “Why don’t you enlighten me as to what exactly the ‘misunderstanding’ consisted of, Mr. Tyrell?” Though Jon wouldn’t admit it, he had to give the man credit for approaching him. Loras had to know a lesser man would have knocked him out cold. Something Jon wanted to do badly – but for many things, not just for what had happened the day before. 

Loras’s dark brows knit together in confusion. “She did not tell you?”

“I want to hear it from you,” Jon said. No way in hell would he admit to Loras that his wife would rather him flounder under half-truths and half the story rather than surrender the actual events of what Cersei Lannister had seen. 

“I was sure the silly goose would have told you,” Loras murmured. He shook his head slowly, looking almost saddened. 

“Pray do not call my wife a ‘silly goose’, Mr. Tyrell,” Jon drawled. “It denotes a certain level of closeness I don’t feel comfortable with.”

Loras nodded and cleared his throat. “Of course. I – I sought to comfort Sansa—”

“ _Mrs. Snow_ ,” Jon corrected succinctly. 

Without batting an eye Loras continued, “I sought to comfort Mrs. Snow yesterday after I informed her that my wife and I are expecting a child.”

Jon stared at him, blinked. “Excuse me?”

“My wife and I are expecting a child. The news was upsetting to Sansa—Mrs. Snow– and I assumed that it was her own worries over not having conceived a child yet.”

“Is that what she told you or what you speculate?” Jon asked with narrowed eyes. 

“Both.”

Jon nearly laughed. So, Loras was as dull-witted as Jon had thought. The man had truly no concept of what had really driven Sansa to tears? Was he truly stupid or merely preferred to look the other way and pretend not to know that Sansa was pining away for him?

“Do me a favor, Mr. Tyrell,” Jon said. 

“Of course.”

“Stay the hell away from my wife.” With that, Jon pushed away from the wall and bee-lined for Sansa. His lips curled into a sneering grin as he made his way across the room. If his wife wanted to pretend a child was what she yearned for, then a child she would get. If she could pretend that was what she wanted, then Jon could pretend she wanted it too. What was more - he could, and would, give it to her.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a treat!

The ride home was quiet. Not tense, surprisingly, just quiet. Sansa busied herself with looking out the window, her lips pursed together in a motion Jon understood meant she was not willing to talk to him. 

That was just fine. 

For now. 

He said nothing, just watched her and thought of the possibility of bringing a child into their marriage. A child of their own. A child that would be half him and half her. 

A child that would bind her to him forever. 

He rather liked the idea, the finality of it. Not to mention the fact that he did indeed want children of his own. He liked them, had always wanted a brood of his own. And he remembered from early conversations with Sansa back when she didn’t despise him (because she didn’t think he’d actually pursue her hand and found him rather entertaining), that she had wanted children one day, too. 

Jon was not so stupid to realize that the idea of having children with _him_ was not something she’d be receptive to however. She’d be against it. Most adamantly. He knew that her tears over Tyrell expecting a child was about losing more of Tyrell than she’d already lost and not at all to do with not having a child of her own. 

And it burned him. It burned him to know she had been brought to tears over Tyrell and her own wish that would never be fulfilled to have children with him. The die had been cast and no doubt Sansa had been crushed under the weight of her helpless pining for Tyrell. No doubt she blamed Jon for it. How could she not? He was the one that had offered for her. Yet if Tyrell had wanted her, he could have had her. Yet he’d never offered for her. If he had felt one smidge of what Jon felt for Sansa, Tyrell would have fought for her. But he hadn’t. He’d let her go. 

And still Sansa pined for the wastrel. 

Was it possible Tyrell was not as he stupid as Jon thought? Was it possible he knew that he and Sansa would have never made a good match? That he would have never satisfied her passions and adventurous spirit? Loras Tyrell would have never been able to keep up with her. He would have kowtowed to her and bored her to tears. Why couldn’t she see that? 

Once the carriage had stopped and the footman had helped Sansa out of it, Sansa all but ran up the stairs of their home and inside. Jon quickly went after her, catching her as she made her way up the stairs. 

“I had an enlightening discussion with Mr. Tyrell tonight, Sansa,” he called to her. 

She froze and turned round, just as he predicted she would. “What about?”

“What happened the day Cersei Lannister happened upon the two of you. He told me his wife is pregnant.”

She narrowed her eyes. “And?”

Slowly, he walked to the edge of the staircase and looked up at her. “He told me you became so distraught over the news that his only gallant thought was to comfort you.” She pursed her lips together, waiting. “What a fool I’ve been thinking that for once Cersei was not the town gossip who had created scandal where there was none. Why, she had been right all along. He _was_ comforting you! And to think – it was all because of your desire to have a child. A child of our own. I was unaware of how distraught you were over not having conceived yet, Sansa.”

Her eyes narrowed, turned cold, and Jon was of the opinion that if she’d held any supernatural power, he would have been reduced to ash where he stood. Feeling triumphant and yet still angry by the revelation of the evening, Jon climbed a step toward her. 

“You do realize that I am more than happy to supply you with the child you so desire,” he told her. 

“You know I don’t want it,” she told him flatly. 

He placed his hand over his heart in mock surprise. “Not want a child? How could that be, Sansa, when you’ve told Mr. Tyrell that it is what you want? Dare I presume that you _lied_ to him?”

“You know I did!” she shouted. “Go ahead, laugh. Laugh and make fun all you want, but you know that I’d rather die than have a child of yours!”

All mirth, pretended and otherwise, left Jon in an instant. “You can’t deny me a child, Sansa. I am your husband and I have rights—”

“And you force those rights upon me every chance you get.” She glared at him and seethed, “You won’t any longer.”

“Don’t you dare deny me,” he warned. 

“Do you realize how much of our marriage is spent with you ordering me about and telling me what I’m _not_ to do?”

“I wouldn’t have to if you haven’t spent our marriage being unfaithful to me.”

“I have never been—”

“In your heart, Sansa,” he told her vehemently. “In your mind. You think of him, you yearn for him. The only time you don’t think of him and want him is when I’m between your thighs and you’re writhing with passion for _me_.”

“My body is engaged, I will admit that. It betrays me.”

“Betrays—” That did it. He started up the stairs purposefully and with a cry, she turned and ran up them, lifting her skirts as she went. 

“Don’t run away from me!” he bellowed, but that only made her run faster. 

He made it to the second floor where their bedchambers were located and reached out to grab her. He was inches from catching hold of her dress. Her eyes went wide as she looked over her shoulder and with a yelp, she ran faster, harder, and into her bedchamber where she slammed the door shut behind her. He heard the click of the lock and he pounded on her door. 

“Goddamn you to hell, let me in!” he shouted. 

“No!” she shouted back. 

“No door can keep me out, Sansa,” he said, his voice shaking and gravelly. “You won’t deny me.”

“You will not lie with me tonight!” she hurled back. 

Jaw clenched, he looked toward his own door just a few feet from hers. Their bedrooms connected; there was more than one way in her bedchamber. He stalked to his bedchamber, opened his door and rushed inside toward the closed door that connected their bedrooms. 

It was locked. 

“Let me in, Sansa! You won’t shut me out!” He rattled the handle while thinking fast of how else to get in. Keys. There was a spare. Downstairs with the housekeeper. He just needed to get them. But he didn’t want to search for her, didn’t want a minute away from Sansa. 

So, he stood back and kicked at the door. It snapped open, the flimsy doorknob giving way as he shoved the door open. Sansa screamed and looked up at him from behind a small drawer she was attempting to push to the door. 

He rushed towards her, grabbed her and shook her. “You were attempting to lock me out permanently? To deny me?”

“Yes!” she exclaimed. 

He hauled her against him, intent on claiming her for the second time that day when he caught the look in her eyes. 

Fear. 

He stiffened as he gazed down at her. Shock filled him. No matter what he lobbied her way there had never been fear in her eyes. Not even the night before when he’d carried her up the stairs intent on having her, and certainly not today when he’d taken her in the field. There had always, always been passion and defiance in her eyes, never fear. 

Sansa wasn’t afraid of anything, certainly not him. 

Yet now she was. And it wasn’t feigned. 

He released her, wincing as he realized how tightly he had held her. A tear broke free from the corner of her eye and the sight of it broke Jon’s heart. 

“No,” he murmured brokenly. His gaze traveled to her arms. “Did I hurt you?”

She licked her dry lips and shook her head. The movement was jerky, as though she was fighting back a sob, and he noticed her skin was red in patches on her face. She _was_ trying not to cry. 

Remorse flooded him and he snatched her gently into his arms, buried his face in her neck and cried for her while begging her to forgive him. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…so sorry.”

She did not move in his embrace, her entire body remained stiff. Jon couldn’t bear it; he’d rather her railing at him. That was what she did. That was how they communicated. This...stiff and afraid woman in his arms was not Sansa. Not _his_ Sansa. 

Abruptly, he released her and she stumbled a bit by the suddenness of it and looked up at him with wide eyes. 

“Forgive me,” he whispered and strode from the room as though the devil himself was on his heels.


	5. Chapter 5

Sansa had not laid eyes on Jon for over a week. He had not only moved his belongings to a bedroom on the third floor, but he hadn’t left his new abode for two days afterwards. She had been informed by the housekeeper, Nan, that he’d been drinking himself into quite a stupor. And then he’d taken himself out of the house and had traveled to White Harbor where he spent the remainder of his time. 

During his absence Sansa had pondered fleeing herself – going home and visiting her parents for a spell. However, she knew they’d ask questions and want to know why she was spending time away from her husband. If she told them what had happened her father would no doubt tell her she was being too difficult on Jon while her mother would take her side, and that would then put her parents at odds with one another and Sansa did not want that. While part of her wanted to stand her ground and declare that no woman should be forced to lay with their husband if they did not wish it, the other part of her, the part of her she fought back with a vengeance, knew that she hadn’t been exactly fair to Jon since their marriage. 

What did he expect? She had been forced into this marriage; she hadn’t wanted it. But, like most of the women in her acquaintance, she had been sold like chattel to Jon. Her father had gone on at great length about what a good man Jon was and how he would be good for her. Only her mother had been as unconvinced as Sansa, but it had been done and there was nothing more to do.

Sansa still remembered the day Jon had come to speak to her father. Instinctively she had known what he was about and though she had begged her mother to stop it from happening, her mother would had assured her that Ned would do what was best for her. Sansa was sure her mother hadn’t expected that what Ned thought was best for Sansa was that she be wed to Jon Snow, a virtual stranger to their hamlet. 

Jon was a rich and powerful man. He hadn’t come from very much, but had then acquired his wealth with the investments he made. It seemed he owned a little piece of everything in Winterfell and beyond, and Sansa had asked him once how much of it was legitimate. Jon had assured her his business dealings were quite legitimate. He invested his money in real estate, hotels, and helped local businesses get their start. 

It was true; she’d never want for anything with Jon. Not materially anyway. But the part of her that railed against being bartered into marriage, that was angry with her parents for allowing it to happen – and for her father thinking Jon would actually be good for her—the part that felt she had no control over her situation because in actuality she didn’t considering she was a woman, was so angry she could spit. 

And hurt. 

She was terribly, terribly hurt. 

Sansa had met Jon at a ball and from the moment he’d set foot in the ballroom all the mama’s who wished to marry their daughters off had been all aflutter. It had amused Sansa considerably that such a man could cause such a stir and, in the spirit of ruffling a few feathers, she had flirted openly with him when he’d approached her. She had found him amusing and entertaining – and not in the least bit a threat. In fact, during a private conversation one evening in which he had nearly scandalized her by taking a walk on the grounds of the Greyjoy estate, she had told him all about Loras, how they had known each other for years through their families and how she was in love with him. 

“Does he love you?” Jon had asked. 

Sansa had nodded resolutely. “I am sure of it.”

“But he has not asked for your hand yet?”

“He will,” Sansa had told him adamantly. “I am most certain of it. He most certainly will. Any day now he will.”

“Any day, you say?” He had sounded amused. “And how long have you been waiting?”

“Never mind that, Mr. Snow,” she had laughed. “Let’s talk about you now. What fluttering miss has caught _your_ eye?”

He’d laughed and called her a shameless gossip and the subject had turned to other matters. 

Jon had called on her a few times, but Sansa was sure that it was only in the spirit of friendship that he did so. She hadn’t suspected that there could be other reasons for his attentions – why would there be when he knew how she felt about another man?

And then one evening at another ball, he had dared her to kiss him. She had, for she was not one to shrink from a dare. He had been a wonderful kisser and the passion he’d displayed had overwhelmed her.

“Does Tyrell kiss you like that?” Jon had asked as he held her firmly in his arms, his voice raspy. 

Sansa had licked her lips and shook her head, trying hard to feel the ground beneath her feet again. Somewhere in that kiss the ground had given way and her knees had left her. “No,” she’d whispered. “He’s only ever kissed my gloved hand.”

Jon’s gaze had darkened. “Then he is a fool. This is what you’re made for. To be held…loved.”

“I will one day—” she had begun to protest. 

“My little vixen,” he’d crooned, interrupting her. “I’m going to make you mine.”

How stupid she had been to laugh his comment off as though it had been a joke. 

And Loras…when she told him of her betrothal and told him that he needed to fight for her, he had merely told her that he could not fight a man like Jon Snow. 

“But I love you, Loras!” she had argued. “And if you loved me you would fight him! You would declare yourself in his stead—”

Loras had merely whispered, “I cannot,” and had left her. When next she saw him, he was married. 

Tears stung Sansa’s eyes as she shifted her weight upon the boulder she sat upon. The view blurred and she wiped at her tears with the back of her hand. Thrice betrayed by men she had trusted: Her father, Jon, and Loras. 

Did Jon not understand her anger? Her hurt? Her mind was muddled with “If only’s”… if only she hadn’t sought Jon’s attentions that first night, if only she had refused him every encounter thereafter, if only she hadn’t kissed him…

If only she hadn’t fallen in love with Loras Tyrell. 

Heaving a deep breath, Sansa shook herself from her thoughts, got up off the boulder she sat upon and made her way to the house. She needed to get away for a while, needed a change of scenery. A shopping trip was in order. She might not care about Jon’s money, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t spend it. 

*****************

“Mrs. Snow, how nice to see you again.”

Sansa looked up from the silk shawl she had been fingering in the local dress shop and frowned upon seeing Cersei Lannister. “Hello, Miss Lannister,” she said stiffly. She knew her disdain for the other woman most likely showed, but she did not care. Sansa had little respect for the woman; she had never been able to stand how she would stand so superior over everyone else whilst spreading vile rumors about everyone behind their backs. She liked to pretend she was above such things but she wasn’t. And everyone knew it. Sansa had heard Cersei’s name linked with quite a few men, and Sansa knew how Cersei had eyed Jon with great interest when he’d arrived to Winterfell. In fact, at one point there had been a rumor that the two had been seen scuttling off together during a ball. 

Cersei smiled…sneered, really. She knew exactly how Sansa felt about her. “Spending Mr. Snow’s money today?” Cersei asked innocently. 

Sansa didn’t like the implication that it was a habit of hers – only when she was quite peeved with him. Was it her fault if that was often? “I have not found anything to my liking yet,” she admitted and then arched a brow as she looked at the other woman. “I find the lot of it so…cheap. Tawdry.”

Cersei’s eyes narrowed and she opened her mouth to speak, but before she could Sansa cut her off. “And are you spending Mr. Baratheon’s money today?”

Cersei’s expression went from annoyed to amused in the span of a second. She looked at Sansa with a smile and mischief in her eyes. “No, I am not. Mr. Baratheon and I have parted ways.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that,” Sansa said dryly. “Whatever will you do now? I had heard that you only wanted that old goat for his money but I had refused to believe it.”

Cersei glared at her and then straightened and picked imaginary lint off the cuff of her dress. “I am not sure what I shall do now, but I do have a prospect I hadn’t expected…”

The tone of Cersei’s voice, the look in her eye, the self-satisfied smile – all of it served to make Sansa straighten and take notice. 

Cersei’s smile widened slowly. “Has your husband come home today in better spirits than when I first saw him last night?”

*************

“Master is home,” Nan declared as soon as Sansa entered the estate an hour later. 

“Where is he?” Sansa demanded. 

“In his study—” Nan replied. Sansa started for the stairs without bothering to discard her pelisse as Nan called out, “Mrs. Snow, he does not wish to be disturbed!” 

Sansa ignored her as she trudged up the stairs to the third floor and then down to his study. She pushed the door open forcefully and marched inside. 

Jon sat behind his enormous cherry desk and stared at her in bewilderment. He stood and Sansa noticed how disheveled he looked – his cravat was undone, his jacket was undone and his beard needed a trim. He also looked as though he could benefit from some sleep.

“Sansa,” he began. 

“You had relations with Cersei Lannister last night?” she demanded angrily. Her body shook still, as it had the moment Cersei had insinuated a liaison between her and Jon, and even more after telling Cersei to stay away from her husband. 

During the entire ride she had stewed in anger and…and what felt strangely like _jealousy_. She had half convinced herself that it wasn’t jealousy though; it was a matter of pride. That was all. No husband of hers was going to carry on an affair and certainly not with that trollop Cersei Lannister! Yet now, seeing Jon rumpled and obviously tired…and after not seeing him for over a week and wondering what he was doing and how he was doing though she had hated wondering – 

“Well?” she said and tapped her foot. 

He blinked, furrowed his brows and shook his head. “Where did you hear that?”

“From _her_.”

Jon made his way around the desk and planted himself in front of it as though he didn’t trust himself to move any closer to her. “Where did you see her?”

“In town, at the dress shop – that doesn’t matter. Is it true?”

He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. “I have not had _relations_ with her, Sansa. I saw her last night, it’s true, but in passing. We shared no more than a few words.”

“She seems to be under the impression that she put your spirit back together.”

He straightened, met her gaze straight on and said evenly, “No.”

Sansa couldn’t stop herself from inquiring, “Did anything happen between the two of you that would give her any indication—”

“ _No_.” He looked perplexed, hurt. “What kind of man do you think I am?” He held up his hand quickly. “Never mind. Don’t answer that. I can already guess.”

The self-reproach she could read on his face made her flinch. The memory of his passionate pleas for forgiveness the night he’d broken her door down, the tears and devastation in his eyes, the sound of his voice as though it’d pained him to speak, haunted her. And he looked near that point again. 

“Jon,” she started and then stopped abruptly. She started again after he looked up at her. “Did you…attend the theater while you were away?”

He blinked, looking as though he didn’t quite know what to do with that and then he cleared his throat and nodded. “I did. Some terrible version of ‘The Taming of the Shrew’.”

“Are you going away again?” she asked and lifted her chin. She wanted to appear unmoved, and yet wanted him to know through her conversation that she was extending an olive branch. Of some sort. 

“No, I’m staying home…for now.”

“No doubt you have business to attend to,” she murmured and started to hedge toward the door. “Perhaps I will see you at supper then.”

He nodded and met her eyes. She caught the hopefulness in them and pursed her lips together. “Perhaps you will,” he replied softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I know, I'm changing things up with the Cersei/Jon bit, BUT in a world where Jon has sway, I would think Cersei would take notice.


	6. Chapter 6

In truth, Sansa didn’t quite know how to proceed after extending an olive branch of sorts to Jon. She had all but requested they sup together, but having to actually do it and carry on a conversation with him had her fretting for the rest of the day. 

When the time came for supper and they met together in their dining room, Sansa noted how much better he looked. She concluded that he must have taken a nap for the circles under his eyes were not quite as dark as they’d been earlier. It appeared he’d also bathed and had his beard trimmed. The masculine scent of him in addition to his cologne tickled her senses and some part of her relaxed while another part awakened. His scent carried memories, memories of his heavy body atop hers, taking her, and whispering kisses across her heated flesh. 

He smiled uncertainly at her in greeting as they both took their seats – him at the head of the table, and her in the spot next to him. The dining room table was so long and obtrusive that seating at opposite ends of the table would have resulted in their shouting at one another to be heard. Sansa would have been lying if she said that sitting so far apart didn’t appeal to her at the moment. 

“What did you do while I was gone?” Jon asked softly after partaking of a few bites of pheasant stew. 

“I rode Lady, sewed, and took care of household matters that needed attending,” she replied primly. _And I thought of you, of that night, of Loras, and of my pathetic life._ She cleared her throat. “What did you do aside from visit the theater?”

“I attended to business in the city, visited some old friends…which reminds me. Do you remember Mr. and Mrs. Samwell Tarly?”

Sansa nodded. “I do. I met them both a few times before our wedding.” And if memory served, Gilly Tarly hadn’t seemed to like her too much. 

“They are coming for a visit. It seems they are in need of a break from city life and wish to spend some time in the country.”

Sansa swallowed hard, nearly choking on here soup. “Oh? And when are they arriving.”

His look was sheepish. “I would wager they will be arriving some time tomorrow.”

“ _Tomorrow_?”

“I’ve informed Nan—”

“When did you inform her? This is the first I’ve heard of it!”

Again, he looked sheepish. Guilty. “Just before dinner.”

“Oh heavens, Jon, there is much to do to prepare for guests—”

“And Nan is competent enough to be able to do it. Relax, Sansa, everything will be fine.”

She pursed her lips together and tried in vain to calm herself. “A little more notice than a day would have been nice. A note at the very least could have been sent while you were in the city. Mrs. Tarly already doesn’t like me and now it seems you’re bent on giving her further reasons to loathe me!”

Jon frowned and knit his brows together. “Now hold on just a damned minute. What is this about Gilly not liking you?”

It was on the tip of Sansa’s tongue to remind her husband that if she wasn’t allowed to be so familiar in how she spoke of Loras, then he should not be so familiar in how he spoke of Gilly. “The few times I met her before we were married she did not seem overly fond of me.” 

Now it was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that she suspected Gilly didn’t think her good enough to be Jon’s wife. Sansa didn’t feel she was unworthy to be his wife; she simply didn’t want to be. 

Jon stared at her, his expression unreadable. After a long minute he finally said, “She does not know you.”

The urge to cry came out of nowhere and distressed Sansa even further. “You must fix this!” she exclaimed desperately. 

“What would you have me do, Sansa? I cannot get word to them now in time. By the time I was able to reach them, they would already be halfway here! Do you not think that would look even more poorly upon us?”

“No, not us. What you mean is me because you very well know they’d blame _me._ Everything is my fault after all, is it not?”

“I never said that—”

“We’ll just have to pretend.”

He blinked. “What?”

“We’ll have to pretend for them. I won’t have them thinking I come up short as your wife. I won’t have them judging me. I can only imagine what you’ve told them already!”

“Sansa, I haven’t told them anything. I barely got a chance to speak with them in the city which is how this visit came about in the first place—”

“I’m sure when you did see them they took one look at you and knew how terribly you’ve been treated by me.”

He looked at her incredulously. “Do _you_ feel you’ve treated me terribly?”

“That is not the point, sir,” she said irritably. 

“Then what is the point? I seem to be missing it completely.”

She leaned forward and glared at him as she hissed, “The point is I will not have them coming here and thinking I am not only unable to run a household properly, but that I am also completely incapable of being a good wife to you.”

“So, it is the appearances you care about,” he sneered. “Funny, you didn’t seem to care too much about that last week when you were caught with Loras.”

“We will have to pretend,” she declared, ignoring his comment. 

“Pretend what?” he asked incredulously. 

“That we are happy,” she said simply. 

He snorted and shook his head as he sat back. The butler came then and took away their dishes to prepare for the next course. “You do realize, madam, what pretending will entail?”

“Yes,” she said stiffly, refusing to look at him. 

“You will have to _endure_ my touches. My affections. You will even have to give me a few of your own. If such a thing is possible.”

That got her. She sent him a glare complete with an arched brow. “Do not concern yourself with what I am capable of pretending, Jon. I’ve become quite adept at it.”

“Goddammit, Sansa,” he growled and slammed his fist upon the table. “Don’t rouse the beast now. I have already been sufficiently humbled from your last attempt.”

She said nothing just watched him, waited. 

He drew a ragged breath and sat back, stewing. “Do you not think it best to be honest?”

“And show our displeasure with each other to people who already dislike me?” she asked, aghast. “No.” She pushed her chair back and stood, unwilling to wait for a servant to assist her. At the moment all she wanted was to be far away from Jon. “As per usual, I haven’t been left with choices.”

“Where are you going?” he demanded. 

“To see Nan about what needs to be done.”

“That can wait. Sit down and eat.”

“No, I no longer have an appetite,” she said and stalked off. 

As was typical, even when Sansa was blaming him for something and lashing him with her harsh words, Jon still managed to feel a sense of loss when she was no longer in his company. 

So. She was concerned about what Sam and Gilly thought of her. And not only of her person, but of her as his wife. He was aware of Sansa’s intense displeasure at being proven wrong or being made the fool. She also despised being underestimated – something Jon no longer did. Apparently, also, she worried about what people thought of them as a pair…of her abilities as a wife. 

It was a surprise for she was not always prone to be overly concerned about what others thought of her. In fact, she rather liked to thumb her nose at the dictates of society and push the limits of what was expected of her as a gentleman's daughter. 

A slow smile spread across his features at the memory of such thumbing when she had made herself known to him at a ball. It had been his first introduction to the fiery Sansa, and she had bewitched him from that first smile. He'd known what she'd been about that night when she'd put herself deliberately in his line of vision and perused him with those gorgeous eyes of hers. She had wanted to ruffle the feathers of the preening misses and their matchmaking mama's. And she had succeeded. It had taken Jon less than a minute to know that Sansa Stark was the only woman for him. She’d laughed and flirted with him boldly and his heart had whispered with its steady beat, “She’s the one.” 

His smile fell as he then remembered hearing her tell him all about Loras and how she’d imparted to him for hours about the many virtues of the so-called love of her life. The arrogant, possessive part of Jon hadn’t been able to accept a rival for her affections. He wanted to be the one. The only one. He wanted her love and adoration more than he’d wanted anything in his life. And he’d been determined to get it. 

But at a price: the loss of her respect and consequently, the loss of his sanity. 

He’d played dirty to get her – going against her wishes and offering for her hand. He’d snatched her unawares from Loras. 

Jon’s lips curled into a snarl. Loras Tyell. The man was not worthy of a woman like Sansa. He wouldn’t know how to handle her! How could she not see that Loras would have bored her to tears, that she would have flattened him within a week! 

Any guilt and regret he might have felt upon securing her hand was diminished when he realized Loras was not going to declare himself. Jon had almost expected him too, and in all honesty he might have let her go with the knowledge that Loras would be a good match for her if he was willing to fight for her. 

But then the idiot had let her go and gotten himself hitched. 

The butler placed the next course – oysters – before him and Jon barely looked at them. He rubbed his tired eyes and considered how he could have done a number of things differently to ensure she would have fallen in love instead of in hatred with him. 

He recalled that afternoon, how she’d stormed into his study and demanded to know if he had had relations with Cersei Lannister. She had almost appeared…jealous. And then she’d asked him if he’d gone to the theater in the city and it was almost as though she was trying to tell him something without actually saying it. 

Was it possible she forgave him for his abhorrent behavior the night he’d broken her door down? Was it possible she had been jealous about the possibility of him and Cersei? Was it possible that her worry over what Gilly and Sam thought of her as his wife and of them as a couple meant she cared more for him than was willing to let on?

Jon’s lips curled back into a smile. Maybe Sam and Gilly’s arrival would produce most pleasant results. A few days of pretending to a loving, married couple might give him the chance he needed to slip into her heart and lay claim to it.


	7. Chapter 7

“I have compiled a menu; will you please tell me if it is acceptable?” Sansa asked as she thrust a set of papers toward Jon. 

He blinked as he stood in the doorway of his bedchamber and slowly took the papers that were against his chest and furrowed his brow. “You are up late.”

She shrugged. “So are you.”

“I don’t want you worrying all night about the morrow, Sansa. Everything will be fine.”

She sighed heavily and gestured toward the papers now in his hand. “Will you please just take a look at what Nan and I have come up with? She claims it has been a while since Mr. and Mrs. Tarly has visited and so she could not remember all the foods they liked and disliked.”

Jon stepped aside and gestured for her to enter. She looked uncertain as she bit her lip and shuffled her feet while looking past him into his new location. 

“I won’t bite you for God’s sake,” he muttered. 

With a resigned sigh, she entered his bedchamber and glanced about the room. It was smaller than his bedchamber, decorated in with rich cherry furniture and hunter green tones. The tapestry on the walls depicted various hunting scenes, and it was not particularly Jon’s taste, but it was a room that had taken less work to prepare. 

“Do you like this room?” she asked. 

“It is a room; a place for me to lay my head. No more, no less.”

“You cannot stay here while the Tarly’s are here, you realize,” she said, turning to face him. 

He looked at her warily. “Yes, I know.”

She looked about the room again and he watched her while pretending to look at the papers she’d shoved at him. “The door has been fixed.”

“Pardon?”

“The door downstairs that adjoins our bedchambers. It’s been fixed.”

Jon gave up the pretense of pretending to read the papers and instead fixed his gaze fully on her. She kept her back to him and he wondered if she had more to say and gained courage by not facing him directly. 

“Has this room been properly aired?” she inquired. “It’s a bit musty…that cannot be good for your health.”

Now Jon was completely stunned. What exactly was she trying to impart? That she cared for his health or that he should return to his bedchamber regardless of Sam and Gilly’s visit? Or was she merely looking to fill the silence with mindless ramblings that meant absolutely nothing?

“This room doesn’t seem suited to you,” she murmured and then rubbed her arms. “And it seems a bit draughty too.”

He wanted desperately to ask her if she was telling him in a roundabout way that she wanted him to return to his chambers and hopefully, one day, her bed. But he was afraid that she would recoil the instant he did so. Just as she had inquired about whether or not he’d gone to the theater while away, Jon was beginning to suspect this was Sansa’s way of telling him what she felt…wanted. Oh, to aid her or make her tell him what it was she was exactly thinking? Forcing Sansa’s hand however, was not something she reacted well to. Their entire marriage of a mere four months was testament to that. 

In the end, he decided it best to play her game and at least let her pretend that he didn’t know what she was about. “I suppose you are right about it being a bit musty and not at all suited to my tastes,” he finally said. 

Her head tilted to the side. “And draughty? Do you find it so?”

“I do. At night.” He shifted on his feet, still watching her back and took a leap with his next comment. “It is also lonely on this floor, and I rather think it a hardship for the servants to trudge up the extra flight when they’ve become so accustomed to my old chambers.”

“I think you are quite right,” she said softly. “Perhaps the move back to your chambers should be a permanent thing.”

Jon’s heart leapt. Did he dare hope? Too late, he was already hoping. His hands itched to reach out and touch her, to bring her into his arms and tell her how much he missed her, loved her, and needed her. He wanted to go to his knees and beg her forgiveness and promise her that if she would just give him the chance he would make her undeniably happy for the rest of her days. How he wished she would turn and face him so that he could see her face, see what was laid in her eyes. 

Yet she remained still. And though the distance between them was but a mere three steps that could easily be breached, it was not merely the physical distance that yawned between them. 

“If you have any notes to make on the menu, please bring it to Nan so that we may proceed,” she said primly. With her head down she slipped by him and Jon clenched his jaw in an effort not to reach out and grab her to him. 

When the door clicked shut behind her, he expelled a deep breath and put his hand to his heart. It still ached for the want of her. 

***************

Sansa didn’t breathe properly until she’d returned to her bedchamber. Pressing her back against her door, she exhaled and the desperately sought to catch her breath. 

Had he guessed? Did he know what she was trying to say? And did she want him to return to his bedchamber where he would be a door away from her…from her body. Tears stung her eyes and she placed her hands over her face. Something most peculiar was happening to her. There was something inside her shifting. Changing. 

She didn’t like it. 

_No,_ she told herself, _this is because I cannot let Jon stray and make a fool of me with Cersei Lannister.. That is all it is._

She pushed away from the door and took a step toward the bed. The floor creaked and she swore it said, “Liar.” 

***************

Mrs. Gilly Tarly was short and quiet. She didn’t say much, but when she did it was to the point. She had light brown hair that fell in waves to her shoulders and deep brown eyes. Her nose was small, blunt. Her chin was obstinate and in the few times Sansa had met her, she had seen the other woman stick it out and up when she did not agree with something. 

Mr. Sam Tarly was also short, and where Jon was muscular, Sam was a bit pudgy. He had kind brown eyes and wore a perpetual welcoming smile. Sansa got the sense from Sam that before Gilly he didn’t have a lot of experience with women. They seemed a perfect match, and at times Sansa wondered how commanding Jon had become friends with quiet Sam. 

Watching the dynamic between the couple over tea the next afternoon, Sansa found herself fascinated. While Gilly seemed to take everything so seriously, Sam took everything in stride. He saw the best in everyone. Sansa didn’t think that was the case so much with Gilly. Yet they were completely in sync with one another. 

Sansa looked over at Jon and wondered what he thought of the Tarly’s. Looking back at the Tarly’s, she wondered what they thought of her and Jon. 

“I think I am in need of something stronger than tea this afternoon,” Jon declared. “Sam, would you care for some coffee?”

Sam smiled. “Love some.”

Sansa looked over at Jon as he summoned the butler for coffee. Once their butler had departed she looked up at him curiously. “Coffee in the afternoon? You never drink coffee in the afternoon.”

To her surprise, he smiled broadly. And then he reached out and took her hand in his. He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingers gently. Looking back at the Tarly’s he said, “You see how she takes care of me?”

Sansa forced a smile while Gilly and Sam murmured their appreciation for her attentions to her husband. 

“Late night, Jon?” Sam asked. 

Jon ignored Sam though and looked over at Sansa tenderly. His gaze caused a blush to heat her cheeks. She shifted in the loveseat they sat upon and ducked her head. 

“Stop making her blush, Jon,” Sam admonished lightly. 

“I enjoy making my wife blush,” Jon murmured, his eyes still heatedly on Sansa. 

“Mrs. Tarly,” Sansa began.

“Please call me Gilly, Sansa,” Gilly said kindly with a smile. “We’re all friends here are we not?”

Sansa smiled tremulously. Were they? “Would you care for some blackberry jam with your scone?” she asked. 

“Oh, I would love some, thank you,” Gilly said enthusiastically. 

“If you’ll excuse me then, I will have the maid bring some in,” Sansa said and stood. 

“My love, we can call for the maid,” Jon said as he gripped the hand he had yet to let go of. 

She bit her lip, thinking of the last time he had called her “my love”. Her cheeks reddened further and she shook her head while pulling her hand gently from his grasp. “No, no. I don’t mind going to the kitchen. Stay here and entertain our guests.”

She started across the room for the door and had just about reached it when she heard Jon rumble her name behind her. She stopped and looked up at him. “Yes?”

He drew her close, one hand on her hip in a half embrace and whispered in her ear, “Don’t be embarrassed, my heart. It was not my intention to make you blush.”

Sansa could barely make sense of his words. All she was aware of were Jon’s arms around her, his scent invading her senses and his lips so close to her ear. She felt as though she was drowning in a sea of sensation. Her nostrils flared as she breathed in more of him and she shivered when she felt his breath against her neck. 

“I—I’m fine,” she managed to finally say. 

He drew back ever so slightly and gazed down at her. Whatever he saw he liked, for he smiled, leaned down and brushed a kiss against her lips. His kiss caught her completely off guard and she started. 

“Ssshhh…” he hushed against her lips. Then he released her and opened the door for her. “Hurry back.”

Sansa slipped out of the door in a stupor. She inhaled deeply and pressed a finger against her lips. Jon’s kisses were rarely so gentle, typically they were quite demanding. Hard. Possessive. 

Trying to focus on the matter at hand whilst ignoring her traitorous body, she marched towards the kitchen for blackberry jam.


	8. Chapter 8

Sansa adjusted her riding hat as she looked in her bedroom mirror. She went to smooth her skirts when she heard a faint knock on her door. Correction: On the door that adjoined her and Jon’s bedchambers. 

He’d moved back in early that morning before Gilly and Sam had arrived. She had pretended not to notice. However, she had been getting dressed at the time and had been achingly aware of his proximity as she could hear him through the door. Once again there was just a door to separate them. She snorted softly. There was more than just a door.

“Sansa?” he called softly through the door. 

She licked her lips and turned toward the door. “Come in,” she called back, wincing at the crack in her voice. 

The door opened and in he entered, all changed for a rousing ride on Ghost. It had been Sam’s suggestion that they all go for a ride on Jon’s sprawling land. After riding in a carriage for half the morning they felt the need for some exercise. Sansa couldn’t have thought of anything better. Anything to get away from her conflicting feelings regarding the ruse her and Jon were performing for their guests. Every touch Jon bestowed upon her, no matter how simple, caused her stomach to flutter. She felt edgy, wound up. A good ride was exactly what she needed. 

And that though only served to rouse images of her Jon riding just a few weeks ago…

A blush rose to her cheeks and she furrowed her brows in frustration. What was the matter with her?

“Are you all right?” the object of her consternation asked in concern. 

“I’m fine,” she said hastily and started for her door. “The Tarly’s are probably waiting for us.”

“Sansa, wait,” Jon beckoned softly and grabbed hold of her hand gently before she could make a break for it. “Are you really all right with…with everything?”

She nodded, unable to find her voice under the force of his consuming gaze. How was it that he made her feel as though he could see right through to her soul?

He released her hand and nodded once. “All right.” He tugged on her hand, bringing her closer to him. He placed her hand upon his arm and smiled down at her. “Allow me to escort you the way a husband should.”

The strength of his arm under her hand, the scent of him, the sight of him in his riding clothes which accentuated his muscles and declared very decidedly how masculine and virile he was, Sansa bit her bottom lip hard and focused straight ahead of her. Her back straight, her head held high, she moved stiffly as he guided her out of her bedroom and down the stairs where their guests were waiting. 

**************

Sam and Gilly weren’t hellions when it came to riding the way Sansa was, and Jon hoped this meant she wouldn’t ride hell bent for leather and keep to a more moderate pace with him and their guests. Not that Jon didn’t enjoy a good hard ride, but he worried about doing that with his wife’s pretty neck on the line. 

“Would you like to go for a bit of a race, Sansa?” Sam asked with a smile. 

Jon looked at his friend in alarm. “Pardon? Since when do you like to race, Sam?”

Sam shrugged. “Since I’ve gotten better on a horse. You’ve said your wife is an expert rider, I thought perhaps she would engage in a bit of a challenge.”

Sansa rose, as Jon knew she would, to the challenge. Determination set her face and glowed in her eyes as she nodded and turned Lady toward the open field. 

“Sansa—” Jon began, but to no avail. She was gone, tearing off with Sam beside her – in truth a bit behind her, too. Jon felt as though his heart was in his throat as he watched her. 

“Don’t worry, Jon,” Gilly said gently. “Neither Sam nor Sansa will do anything reckless.”

“Sansa can’t resist a challenge,” Jon told her, his gaze strictly on Sansa as she whipped through the field. “I fear she’s reckless when it comes to proving herself.”

“You love her very much, don’t you?”

Jon glanced at her and then back to Sansa. She and Sam had brought their horses to a moderate gallop and they rode side by side, chatting. Jon prayed Sam didn’t see the wall Sansa had jumped the week before. Sam might want to jump it and though Sansa had promised not to jump it again, Jon wasn’t sure if that promise still held now. 

“Yes, Gilly,” Jon finally replied. “I do love her very much.”

“And does she love you?”

Jon looked at her now. “What do you think?”

One side of Gilly’s mouth curled into a knowing grin. “I think that much of what I’ve seen has been an act. A woman in love doesn’t stiffen when the man she’s in love with touches her.”

“Does she do that?” 

Gilly chuckled. “Ah, I know there is something amiss when you begin to answer a question with a question. Come now, Jon, we’re old friends. Be honest with me. Does she still resist you?”

“Define ‘resist’,” Jon chuckled. “Our marriage is… _final_ in one respect.”

Gilly nodded slowly. “I understand.”

Wistfully, Jon looked back to the field and watched Sansa bring Lady into a prance. He smiled and then his smile faded as he looked back to Gilly. “But she does not love me.”

“She is still in love with Loras Tyrell?”

“Yes,” he replied softly. 

Gilly studied him thoughtfully, glanced toward the field and then looked back at him. “I am not so sure about that.”

“Oh?” Jon asked, unable to keep the hope out of his voice. Did Gilly see something he didn’t?

“She is not indifferent to your attentions, Jon. The look in her eyes, the blush on her cheeks – she responds to you physically.”

“But not emotionally.”

Gilly smiled and laughed a little. “Sansa is an independent and strong woman, I daresay she does not seem the type to be overly prone to theatrics nor does she seem the emotional sort. But, she is not made of stone either - no matter how much she’d like to be, or how she’d like to portray herself to be. I believe she has feelings for you; she just doesn’t quite know what to do with them. Remember Jon, I warned you when you told me what you were going to do – you took her choice from her. She had set her course one way and you came along and put her on a different path altogether. Despite her flirting with you and all the attention she paid you, for her it was innocent. She seems worldly, but she is not. She’s still a young and naïve girl underneath her womanly façade.” Gilly sighed and shifted on her horse before looking back up at Jon. “You do not know what it is like for a woman. We don’t have the same kind of options a man does. We are at the whims of the men around us. I do think Ned Stark saw something in you for his daughter that would be good for her, but Sansa hadn’t been convinced of that when he gave you his consent. I believe with how things came to pass between the two of you, she doesn’t trust you and probably does not trust what she truly feels for you.”

Jon drank in Gilly’s words. He felt the truth in them, and as a result he felt guilt as well. Gilly was right. He had changed course for her rather abruptly and without any real warning of his intentions. As with all things in his life, Jon had wanted Sansa and so he’d gone after her. Want. Take. Have. That had been his course once he’d met Sansa. Through Gilly’s eyes, he could now see how Sansa saw it: she’d confided in him about the life she’d wanted with the man she’d wanted and Jon had used the information to get to Ned before Loras did. He’d betrayed her when she had thought them friends. 

He hadn’t given her a choice; he hadn’t played fair. No wonder she hated him. 

“Jesus,” he swore. 

“Jon, all is not lost,” Gilly said soothingly. 

“Don’t tell her,” he said hoarsely. “She’d never forgive me if she knew I told you the truth of our situation. She wants to prove to you and Sam that she is a good wife to me, she’s been so worried about it…”

Gilly arched a brow as she sat back upon her horse. “Funny, that. A woman who seemingly doesn’t care a lick about you is concerned over what your friends think of your relationship.”

“I thought the—” he broke off when he glanced at Sansa and Sam and found them racing toward that blasted wall. Jon turned Ghost toward them and urged him into a run. “Sansa!” he shouted as he tore after them. 

Lady may have made it once, but that did not mean she’d make it again. And this time she was going even faster than before. 

“Sansa!” he shouted again. 

He watched her fearfully as she raced toward the wall and then, a good distance from the wall still, pulled on the reins and sat back, slowing Lady down. Lady changed course, turning to the side and then in a circle facing back to the wall to presumably watch Sam make the jump. 

She’d stopped. 

God Almighty, Sansa had kept her promise and stopped. 

He watched her climb off Lady and dig into the pocket of her riding coat to feed Lady a treat. Jon galloped up to her and all but jumped off Ghost. 

She looked up at him and nodded toward the wall. “I kept my promise so you don’t have to get upset with me,” she told him in annoyance. “And I can’t tell you how hard it was to keep it. I wanted more than anything to make that jump because I know Lady and I—”

She never got to finish her tirade for Jon had grabbed her into his arms and claimed her lips in a wholly passionate kiss that contained all his love, desire, need and hunger for her. At first she didn’t respond, but after a brief deliberation, she slowly slid her arms up and wound them around his neck. 

Jon angled his head and deepened the kiss, thrusting his tongue in her mouth. She tasted like blackberry jam and his Sansa and he felt as though he was drowning in her. 

“I need to breathe,” she gasped and pulled her head back. 

Jon peppered kisses over her face as he murmured, “My love, you kept your promise. Thank you...thank you...thank you…”

“Jon,” she whispered urgently and started to pull away from him. He would not let her go; he claimed her lips until she was breathless again. 

“Our guests,” she hissed when she was able to pull away again.

“I don’t give a damn about our guests,” he muttered. “I want to kiss my wife.” And to prove he truly did not give a damn about Sam and Gilly watching, nor did he care about propriety, he kissed her yet again.


	9. Chapter 9

“I cannot play another card game,” Sam declared the following afternoon. He tossed the cards in his hand to the small table he, Sansa, and Gilly were playing at. 

Jon looked up from the letter he was writing to his cousin across the room and sat back in his chair. “Bored already, Sam?”

“What do you mean ‘already’?” Sam asked with a grin. “It’s three in the afternoon and we’ve already found several ways in which to distract ourselves on this wet, dreary day.”

“Poor dear,” Gilly cooed and patted her husband’s knee. “Why don’t you run up and down the stairs in the front hall if what you are in need of is exercise?”

Sam shot her a look to which she grinned, her brown eyes twinkling in mischief. Sansa watched them and couldn’t help but smile. They were a playful couple and it was endearing to watch. Her gaze strayed toward Jon and she found him watching her intently. Their eyes met and he smiled gently at her. Her lips quirked into what could be construed as a smile, but she turned away and focused on her guests before fully committing to it. 

After the passionate kiss Jon had planted on her the day before, Sansa had sought to keep him at a distance, or as much of one as they could considering their charade and as much as Jon would let her which, as it turned out, wasn’t much. He bestowed upon her little touches and caresses whenever and wherever he could. A peck on the cheek, on the lips, the holding of her hand, slipping his arm around her waist – all moves that from him seemed so incredibly _natural_ , as though it was something he didn’t even have to think of, but something he just felt inclined to do at any given moment and then did them. 

And Sansa had to admit that with every touch he gave her she did not stiffen as much as she had in the beginning. At one point she’d actually found herself leaning into him! And at another time she’d had the most desperate urge to flick an unruly wisp of hair from his face. And, after dinner when they’d retreated to the sitting room she had actually thought Jon should hold her hand as they conversed with the Tarly’s. She had been so close to grabbing his hand that she had decided what she needed was to get away from him. So, she’d claimed a headache and begged off for the night. 

Thankfully Jon had not sought her company when he retired and left her blessedly, if not distressingly, alone. 

The light of day, or rather the light of the cloudy, rainy day, had done nothing to diminish her rather tangled feelings. Witnessing the Tarly’s brought about even more conflicting feelings in Sansa. She found their easy banter entertaining and drank in every small courtesy they paid one another – for example, at breakfast Sam had refilled Gilly’s glass with juice when she had gone low and Gilly had saved him half her scone smothered with his favorite jam. And then there were the smiles they shared and the small touches. More than once in observing them did Sansa think _I want that._ And more than once she’d wondered, _Could I have that?_

Jon called her “my heart” and “my love” and sometimes just “love”, and he had admitted that he couldn’t bear for anything to happen to her, plus he was undeniably jealous of Loras, but did he really love her? Or did he just mean to possess her? She’d heard the stories of him when he’d returned abroad from his travels as a ruthless man that set his sights on what he wanted and then went after it until it was his. For some strange reason she had never thought that quality would have applied to _her._

She had felt little more than just another thing Jon wanted to possess. She thought to him that she was little more than an acquisition and that while he didn’t necessarily love her, he wanted her to love _him._ Why, she could not begin to fathom – did he want idolatry? Adoration? Security that she would never stray? 

He often reminded her of a conquistador – he swept in, took what he wanted and expected to be revered and respected for his power, brute strength, and conquering abilities. She didn’t think Jon understood it didn’t work that way. And with every victory he made upon her – namely with her traitorous body – she wanted to rally even more against him, defy him, and show him she was the master of her person, not him. 

And yet there were times…times when his touches and kisses, his impassioned speeches and the looks he gave her made her think that maybe he did love her. Maybe she was more than just a possession. Maybe he just didn’t know how to say it. Show it. 

Sansa sighed at the direction of her thoughts. It didn’t matter what he wanted or how he felt for she was still in love with Loras. And _he_ would have never treated her the way Jon did.

_He hadn’t fought for you either. He let you go._

She rubbed her forehead in frustration. The sting of that particular truth had yet to wear off. 

She jumped when she felt large warm hands upon her shoulders. They started to knead gently and she didn’t need to look up to know it was Jon. 

“Still have a headache?” he murmured. 

“No, I – I find I am in agreement with Sam,” she said. “I think a different activity is in order.”

“Any suggestions?” Jon asked. 

“Let’s play a game,” Sam said with a grin. “A rather childish game.”

“This should be good,” Gilly said dryly. 

“Oh, such pertinence!” Sam returned with a laugh. He sat back and let his gaze travel to each one before finally declaring, “Let’s play hide and seek!”

Sansa couldn’t help the laugh that escaped at such an outrageous suggestion while Jon’s hands stopped kneading her shoulders and just rest there. “Hide and seek?” he said. 

“Why not? What else have we to do?” Sam said and gestured around them. “We’ve exhausted every other avenue save for a stroll in the rain. Sure it’s a tad on the childish side, but think of the fun! We can make a sport of it; the first round can be the husbands looking for their wives and then the wives looking for their husbands. By then it’ll be time for supper and we’ll have another diversion from all this dreary weather.”

Boldly, Sansa said, “I’m game.”

“I can’t believe I’m going to say this…but so am I,” Gilly said with a laugh. 

“Jon?” Sam asked as he looked up at his friend. 

Jon sighed heavily and then nodded. “Fine. But I make only one rule.”

“And that is?”

“No attics or basements.”

Sam slammed his hand down upon the table and then stood exuberantly. “Done! All right, first round shall commence. Jon and I will count in here to a hundred and you, my darling wife, and Sansa, run and hide!”

*************

Sansa couldn’t help the breathless giggles that escaped her as she let herself into one of the abandoned third floor bedchambers. She had heard Gilly tell her she knew of the perfect hiding spot near the servant’s quarters, and she had run off to find it. Sansa had taken herself up immediately to the third floor to the very last bedchamber. She went straight for the cherry wardrobe closet that sat in the corner of the room. 

She opened the doors, stepped inside and then closed the doors behind her. A single beam ran the length of the closet at the top and curiously enough she found that it was not independent of the wall as she had thought, but rather part of it. 

Strange, she thought, and pressed herself against the wall. The tiny shaft of light that filtered through made her feel better about being in a confined space. She held her breath at the thought of Jon or Sam whipping the doors open and giving her a fright. She did not do well with being surprised in such a manner. 

_Stupid, Sansa. What did you think hide-and-seek was all about?_ She sighed heavily. Yes, but it was a distraction, and a distraction was sorely needed. Too much time on her hands and all she did was think. About Jon. 

She sagged against the wall and shut her eyes, thinking of being on Lady and taking that jump over the wall –

And then the wall behind her moved. She stumbled backwards and landed on her rump. She looked up, blinked and watched as the wall started to move back into place. 

“No!” she exclaimed and scrambled to her feet to grab it before she was shut inside – whatever it was she was shut inside in. 

But it closed. And darkness enveloped her. 

A scratching sound followed by a squeak followed and that was it. Sansa balled up her fists and pounded on the wall. “Jon! Let me out! Jon!”

***********

Jon had just finished looking in the alcove near the servants quarters where he’d found Gilly and promised her not to tell Sam, and then searching his bedchamber and then Sansa’s, and was inside the library on the second floor when he heard pounding from above him. And then Sansa’s muffled voice screaming for him. 

Jon tore out of the library and went for the stairs that led to the third floor at the end of the hall. He took them two at a time and then jogged slowly down the hall in order to discern where Sansa’s cries were coming from. 

When he neared one bedchamber near the end, he went inside and listened. No, she wasn’t in here. “Sansa!” he called loudly. “Can you hear me?” Silence fell. “Sansa? Where are you?”

“The last bedroom! I’m in the wall! Get me out of here!” she shouted. 

Jon ran to the last bedroom, of what had been his great-grandfather’s bedchamber and went for the closet in the corner. He knew exactly what she had meant for it had been a source of fascination for him as a child. 

He opened the doors and placed his hand against the wall Sansa pounded her fists against. “Sweetling, I need you to step back away from the door so I can push it open,” he told her. 

“All right,” she whimpered and he faintly heard the shuffle of her feet.

He pushed on the wall and it creaked open revealing a trembling, white-faced Sansa. Jon stepped inside at the same time she scurried to him. He caught her and pulled her into his arms just as the door shut behind him. 

“JON, no!” she exclaimed in distress. “Now we’re locked in here!”

“Sssshhhh, love, we’re not locked in here. It’s a secret passage.”

“Oh, I don’t like those!” She buried her face in his neck and tightened her arms around him. 

“Watch; All it needs is the right push at the top corner of the door and it unhinges open from this side.”

With one arm still around her shoulders, he pulled away momentarily and reached up with one arm to the top right corner. He pushed lightly with his hand and the door unhinged and creaked open. Sansa all but ran through and then grabbed his hand and pulled him with her. 

Once they were back in the bedchamber, Sansa took in gulps of air while Jon pulled her into the safety of his arms and stroked her hair. “It’s all right, my love,” he murmured. 

“We have a secret passage in my house and Robb used to like to go in it all the time when we were children. It led into the library from the parlor and he’d jump out at me all the time and then try to coax me to play with him inside. I hated it. He always took such enjoyment in scaring me. I hate it when people jump out at me. And the mice…we had mice in ours and Robb would dangle them in my face.”

“You’re safe now. No Robb, no mice—”

She looked up at him with wide eyes. “Oh, but Jon, I think there _are_ mice in there! I heard them!”

She was so adorably adamant and spooked by the prospect that Jon couldn’t help but kiss her softly, adoringly. He’d meant it to be a quick kiss, but when he pulled back and gazed down at her upturned face and caught the dazed look in her eyes, he leaned down and claimed her lips more fully. 

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him tightly, wanting no space between their bodies. With his tongue he traced her lips and coaxed them to open. When they did, he slipped his tongue inside her mouth and tangled it with hers. One hand crept up her arm, around her neck and then up into the back of her head and tangled in her hair. He bent her back, straining his body closer to hers as he devoured her with his lips. Her small hands came up to his chest and balled his coat in her fists. 

“Jon,” she gasped. 

Jon used the loss of her lips against his to trail kisses along her jaw and then down her neck. He lifted her abruptly and brought her to the chaise in the middle of the room. He sat down upon it and placed her on his lap, his lips never leaving her skin the whole time. Her head arched back with a shudder and Jon’s lips trailed down to the top of her bodice. It was a modest bodice, revealing nothing, and so he tugged until it slipped down and her breasts popped free. Like a man starved he suckled her nipple in his mouth and had set the same course for her other breast when Gilly and Sam’s voices could be heard talking loudly down the hall. 

Sansa pushed at him and with a groan of protest and compliance, Jon helped her adjust her dress, but remained seated as she stood and smoothed her skirts and hair. It would do no good for him to stand, not unless he wanted to show his friends that more than playing hide-and-seek had transpired. 

Sansa looked down at him in question and Jon gestured to the crotch of his pants in answer. Her face cleared, she blushed, and then she rushed out into the hall to let Sam and Gilly know she’d been found. Once his erection had subsided, Jon stood and went out in the hall to greet his friends. 

“A secret passage in the house? How exciting! I never knew you had one!” Gilly said excitedly. 

“In truth, I forgot I had it,” Jon told her as they made their way down the hall to the stairs. 

“Where does it lead?” Sansa asked. 

“The kitchen. Rumor has it that the previous owner wanted easy access to the kitchen for treats and didn’t want to wake the house when he went in search of them.”

Ahead of them, Sam suggested to Gilly such a secret passage in their own home would be most prudent and Gilly had just begun to talk him out of such an idea when Jon leaned in to murmur in Sansa’s ear, “That passionate interlude is to be continued.”

She blushed, licked her lips, and kept her gaze straight ahead. Jon took that as a good sign, not to mention all the encouragement he needed.


	10. Chapter 10

When Jon rapped softly on his and Sansa’s shared door much later that night – after everyone had retired – and received no answer, he tried the door. It opened, much to his surprise. He was certain that if she wanted to completely shut him out she would have locked it. 

Or, as it appeared, she would simply not be in her room when he arrived. He frowned. Now where the devil could she have gone off to? 

Cursing, he made his way to the small desk tucked away in the corner where she wrote her letters. Perhaps she had left him a note…

But no. No note. With a sigh, he raked his hand through his hair and looked out her window. 

And saw a light on in the stables. Surely she couldn’t have…

_Do something impulsive just to get away from him? Of course she would._

Jon told himself to calm down, to not get angry with her. For the rest of the day since their passionate moment in the bedchamber upstairs he had been wound tighter than a drum. He wanted her. _Needed_ her. And she’d felt something too, he knew she had. It had been in the passion of her response to him and in the way she had not rebuffed him when he’d told her their interlude would continue. 

So what had changed? Was she afraid? Had she been too conscious of their guests to tell him no, she did not want him to visit her that night? Yet she had kept her door unlocked…but had run to the stables to get away. 

God, she wouldn’t take a late night ride would she? He imagined her jumping that wall in defiance and his hands shook as he quickly dressed, not even bothering at this late hour with a waistcoat or jacket. Trousers, a shirt and boots, that was all he needed. 

He marched down the stairs where his footman was lounging near the door and as soon as he saw JON he jumped from his seat, ready for direction. 

“Did Mrs. Snow leave the house for the stables?” he asked, much more harshly than he’d intended. 

“Yes, sir.”

“Why wasn’t I informed?”

“She did not wish to disturb anyone, sir.”

Jon grumbled and hurled the door open. 

“Do you need assistance, sir?”

“No, stay here,” Jon muttered.

He jogged down the stone steps and cut across the lawn to the stables, following the glowing light from the inside. He slowed when he heard her, humming. And then he started to smile. 

As he drew near the window where Lady’s stall was located he caught sight of Sansa in a green and white day dress she didn’t wear very often. She claimed it was in need of mending and preferred to use it while tending to household matters that could cause her to get dirty. Jon couldn’t see a fleck of dirt on the dress, nor any holes, but in truth he never looked for such imperfections. All he cared about was the woman who wore the clothes, not the clothes themselves. 

She was brushing Lady and every so often cooing at her horse as she worked. Lady seemed to be lapping up the attention and Jon found himself envying the horse. Of all things to envy! Oh, what Sansa could single-handedly reduce him to!

Quietly, Jon made his way to the entrance of the stables and wound his way towards Lady’s stall. Ghost neighed softly as he passed by, but Jon kept going lest Ghost hold him up from his task. 

Sansa hummed away and after a long while of Jon standing in the archway of Lady’s stall, she finally looked up and noticed him. She jumped, causing Lady to shuffle and issue a snort of distress. Cooing at the animal, Sansa calmed her and then looked to Jon with her brows pinched together. “What are you doing out here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he said and folded his arms across his chest. 

“I…wanted to check on Lady. She didn’t get any exercise today and I hadn’t a chance to see to her as I would have liked,” she replied as she absently brushed Lady’s side. 

“At this hour?”

She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“I had plans for you that would have sent you off to sleep with a smile on your face,” he drawled. 

Though she was now partially hidden by Lady, he could see one side of her and noted how she stiffened at his words. 

“Sansa, what’s wrong?” he asked softly. 

“Nothing,” she said indignantly. 

He came round Lady and grabbed Sansa’s arm just as she started to dart around her horse. She looked up at him, eyes averted and then bit her lip and looked down. 

“What’s wrong? Are you afraid I’ll hurt you?” 

She shook her head and pulled her arm free of his hold. 

“Then what is it?” he asked gently. “Is it just that you didn’t want to lie with me tonight?”

Her brows furrowed and she shook her head again. 

“Sweetling, what is it? We’ve been doing well, no? Getting on well without any argument… Granted I know it’s all pretend, at least perhaps on your end, but for me it’s not. How we’ve been in front of Gilly and Sam? That is how I always want us to be.”

She looked up at him, startled, wide-eyed. “Really?”

He gazed at her incredulously. “How could you think otherwise? Do you honestly think I _enjoy_ having every other discussion we have be a fight?”

She frowned, clearly perplexed. “I suppose not…”

“Do _you_ enjoy our constant battles?”

She sighed and shook her head. “I rather thought you enjoyed the outcomes as they usually end with me under you.”

She couldn’t have shocked him more if she’d slapped him right across the face. No, actually, that wouldn’t have shocked him at all considering she’d done it often enough. “Sansa, that’s not…that’s not…”

The corner of her mouth tilted. “At a loss for words?”

“Do you think I deliberately bait you into an argument so that I can get you on your back?”

“Perhaps a little,” she admitted softly. 

“Is there anything else you’d like to accuse me of?” he asked severely as he folded his arms across his chest. 

She faltered for a moment and then seemed to gain courage. Straightening her shoulders and looking him in the eye she said, “I think you want to possess me the way you do your businesses and that you don’t love me, but want me to love you. I haven’t worked out why yet, so far the only thing I’ve been able to come up with is that you don’t like being told no. You don’t like resistance; you just want your orders followed and your needs met – regardless of who you trample in the process.”

Jon sucked in a deep breath, feeling very much as though she’d kicked him in the stomach with her confession. “And is that how you feel? Trampled by me?”

Her courage faltered again and he caught the wetting of her eyes just before she looked away and then down and said softly, “Yes.”

“You can think of no other reason why I want you to love me other than I want to possess you…do you mean to say you are comparable to a business transaction to me? Or like a vase in our home?”

Her chest started to rise and fall rapidly, he caught the flaring of her nostrils and then just as quickly as her courage had fled it had returned – and with it her temper. She threw Lady’s brush to the floor and hollered, “Yes! For some reason you decided that you wanted me and so you took me – ignoring how I felt and what I wanted. But you didn’t care what I wanted, you only cared what _you_ ]wanted. And now you have the audacity to wonder why I don’t bow at your feet and smother you with adoration. Honestly, Jon, what did you expect?”

She stormed off while her words rang in Jon’s ears and felt as though daggers had been attached to them. His heart ached and he felt quite breathless by her accusations. It was just as Gilly had said and then some. The “then some” being that she believed she was no more to him than a business transaction, a piece of property – that she meant no more to him than his belongings. It stunned him and left him reeling. 

He sprang into action when he realized he could not let her go without a rebuttal, without a defense. He ran out of Lady’s stall and down to the entrance and caught sight of her heading further away from the house and into the black night. 

Jon ran after her and grabbed her arm to stop her. She whirled on him, yanking her arm free and hollered at him, “You act as though I should be grateful for you marrying me when you knew from the first that I didn’t want anyone but Loras. You betrayed my confidences in you and you used them against me to get what you wanted. Now you’ve got me, and because I don’t fall at your feet act like some fluttering miss catering to her big, strong husband, you act as though you are the wounded party. You were my friend, Jon. My _friend._ And I _did_ adore you. Until you betrayed me, until you went against what I wanted.” She wiped at her face roughly and Jon realized she was crying. “And now…with Gilly and Sam being here…now I want what they have and I don’t know how to get it.”

“You just have to reach for it, Sansa,” he rasped. He placed his hand over his heart. “I’m here. I’m right here, Sansa. Just reach for me and I’ll give it to you. All of it. Everything and anything you want. You want the moon? I’ll find a way to get it for you. Just tell me what it is you want.”

She looked up at him and swallowed hard as tears dropped from her eyes. In the moonlight, he noticed, they resembled crystals. “I…I want…”

“Say it,” he said fervently. “Tell me.”

“I--I want to be free.”


	11. Chapter 11

“What—what do you mean you want to be free?” Jon asked Sansa hoarsely. _God, please don’t let her mean she wants a separation. Please, please, please…_

“I mean I want to be free of this confusion and hurt and anger. I hate living in it and I want to be free of it. I don’t want to spend my life like this. I do actually want to be happy, contrary to what you might think. And these past two days with the Tarly’s I’ve almost felt as though that was possible.” She shook her head. “But it’s fake. All pretend.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” he whispered, awash with relief that it was not a legal separation she sought. He took a step toward her and she took a step back. He stopped, letting her have her space. “And for me it’s not.”

She looked up at him suspiciously. “What do you mean?”

“You think you know what it is I want. You think you know how I view you and what I think of you, but I can tell you with complete and utter honesty, Sansa, that you’re not even close. Well, not completely anyway. You were right in that I do wish to possess you.”

Her face scrunched into a mask of distaste and anger and she whipped away from him. He caught her intent to flee and grabbed her about the waist and snatched her against him. She struggled against him and he wrapped his arms around her, imprisoning her. 

“Let me go!” she yelled. 

“No, not until you listen.”

“I don’t want to listen to anything you have to say!”

“Ssshhhh…” he hushed against her ear. “Stop, my love. Listen to me now. I need you to listen to me.”

Slowly her struggles diminished and eventually, as though exhaustion had overcome her, she sagged against him. 

Jon nuzzled her neck and rocked her gently in his arms as he spoke tenderly in her ear. “My Sansa…my heart. Did you know that you were my heart, hmmm? My sweet, you mean everything to me. Do you remember when I asked you not to take that jump with Lady?” She nodded. “Do you remember how I told you that I couldn’t bear for anything to happen to you?” She nodded again. “Have you any idea why? No? Because, Sansa, I love you. I am so desperately in love with you that sometimes I can’t breathe for it.” 

He heard the gasp of her breath and felt her body stiffen in his hold. Still he held her; still he spoke to her of his love. “I fell in love with you the first time I clapped eyes on you. So beautiful and daring, courageous and witty…how could I not love every single thing about you? It’s true; I do want to possess you. I want you to be mine just as I am yours. You own me, Sansa. Everything that I am is for you – you have all of me. My heart, my body and my soul. You are in every breath I take and in every beat of my heart. You were right – I did have to have you. I couldn’t envision my life without you. I ached for you then and I ache for you now. I act crazy; I get possessive and jealous and I fight with you because I don’t know any other way to ensure your attention. I found a way to inspire your lust and if I have that then at least I have something of you. I don’t enjoy it…and especially not when I make you fear me…hate me. But even with your hatred at least you feel something other than indifference.”

Her body shuddered and a sob escaped her as she sagged even more against him. Jon held her tight, burying his face in her neck. “I want to make it better,” he whispered against her skin. “Tell me how to make it better.”

“I don’t know!” she exclaimed. “You betrayed me! And now you tell me these things…how do you expect me to react?”

“Love me, Sansa,” he said hoarsely, shutting his eyes tight. 

“I don’t know how,” she whispered brokenly. “Or if I can.”

“You can, I know you can. I know you feel something for me. I can feel it in your responses to me. In your passion, the way you touch me—”

“Jon—”

“Loras wouldn’t have asked you,” he said in her ear. “You know it. He wouldn’t have done it. He had plenty of time and he didn’t. He never claimed you and when he could have fought for you he didn’t. You know that to be true, Sansa.”

Her sobs grew harder and she struggled against him once more. He held her tight, murmured nonsensical words of love and comfort in her ear until her tears subsided. It was a long time and in those moments Jon felt something shift. Change. The truth – was it possible she accepted it? Or at least heard it? _Really_ heard it? Understood it?

By degrees he loosened his arms around her and then slowly, so as not to startle her, he turned her in his arms and instead of running from him as he thought she would, she wrapped her arms around his waist and cried into his neck. 

Jon pressed his lips against her temple and closed his eyes against the tears that stung his own eyes. “I love you so much, Sansa, and I’m so sorry for what I did. I went about it all wrong and I know it now…a little too late, but I know it. I want to make it up to you. Tell me what to do and I’ll do it. Just don’t leave me, my heart, don’t leave me.”

“I don’t know how you can make it up to me…and I don’t know how to let you,” she whimpered. “Nothing makes sense to me anymore…nothing.”

Gently he lifted her face to his and peered down at her. He wiped at her tears, kissed her eyelids and then finally her mouth. “Let me love you,” he whispered. “Let me show you how good it can be. Let me try.”

She blinked up at him, looking perfectly and adorably overwhelmed. 

“If I fail…” he sucked in a deep breath. “If I fail we will – we will separate. I’ll get you a house anywhere you want and set you up to live comfortably for the rest of your life. I won’t – I won’t bother you again.”

Now she looked stunned. “You would do that?”

His smile was weak. “Not willingly. But if I fail to make you happy then I want to find some way to do it, and if being away from me was what it would take…”

“Jon—”

He took her face in his hand and kissed her ardently. “Let me try. Please.”

“You do love me, don’t you?” she said. She sounded, of all things, uncertain. 

He pressed his forehead against hers and then kissed her again, fervently. “I love you more than my own life,” he whispered raggedly. 

It took only seconds for her to answer, but it felt like minutes, hours. “Yes, Jon,” she said softly. “We can try.”

He didn’t catch it until much later on, but instead of telling him that _he_ could try, she had said “we”. And that meant everything. 

“Let me start now then,” he said and rubbed her chilled arms. “Are you quite done out here? Do you want to go inside? Or do you wish to stay out here a while longer?”

“I want to go inside now,” she said, sounding tired. 

“Are you cold?”

She shook her head. “No. Are you?”

He smiled, leaned in and kissed her softly. “Can’t feel a thing. Come; let’s go inside.”

Wrapping an arm around her, Jon led her inside the house. He instructed his footman to shut down the stables and then led Sansa up the stairs to her bedchamber. He guided her to her bed where she sat and promptly yawned. He took off her shoes followed by her stockings and then played maid and helped divest her of her dress. When she was left in only her chemise, he drew it over her head and though he tried hard not to react to her gloriously naked body, he lifted the night rail she had left on the bed and pulled it over her head. 

She looked up at him in a mixture of awe, curiosity and uncertainty. He smiled tenderly down at her, into her tear-stained face, luminous eyes and alabaster skin and then drew her into his arms and kissed her softly, lovingly. “Do you need anything else, my love?” he asked. She shook her head and he swept her up in his arms and then placed her on the bed. She watched him with wide, bewildered eyes as he pulled the blankets up and around her and then leaned down to kiss her forehead. “Goodnight, Sansa.”

He turned down her oil lamp, tended to her fire and then started for the door. He paused and smiled when he heard her soft, “Goodnight, Jon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In light of all the comments left on the previous chapter, and the issues brought up in terms of how society at this time viewed women (and in many ways that hasn't changed much!) I wondered if this chapter would fall a bit flat. However, Sansa, to me, does feel a great deal more for Jon than she is willing to admit to him or to herself. She sees the Tarly marriage as something she wants and she sees them as equals as was mentioned. She wants that for her and Jon, and for herself. Here I think she is seeking to level the playing field and not have their marriage false or antagonistic. Jon's confessions here are what she needs to hear, but she also needs to feel those things going forward from him. Their actions before this have been all about power plays. Jon needs to show her he actually does love her and respect her. So, I hope this chapter was not a disappointment.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! You liked the last chapter! Thank you so much everyone!

When Sansa awoke the next morning she lounged in bed for a while before getting up. She had slept like the dead after Jon had left her and had been haunted by dreams of him and Loras through the night. Either Loras was stepping aside without argument for Jon to have her, or Jon was forcing Loras away. In every one she had fought Jon and called for Loras, but in the end Jon’s passion won out and she would find herself in his heated embrace, succumbing to her desire for him. 

Sansa could admit, albeit with discomfort, that she did desire Jon. He was charismatic, a force to be reckoned with and no one could dispute that he was a powerful and successful man. He drew people to him and she was no exception. 

He roused her passion and had the ability to make her tremble under his touch no matter how she fought it. For heaven’s sake he had made her _beg_. It disturbed her greatly that he brought her to that, that her need for the fulfillment she knew he could give her had brought her to a frenzied, pleading state. 

And now to learn he was in fact in love with her and had been all this time…his confession had moved her. She had felt his words to her bones. 

To remember what he said about Loras, too…it brought fresh tears to her eyes. 

Jon had been right; she could see that now. Loras had had no intention of marrying her and she had known it when he had simply walked away from her instead of fighting for her as she had pleaded with him to do. She just hadn’t wanted to face it then for she had needed _something_ to cling to, something that would put him in the same miserable boat she was in instead of accepting that he simply hadn’t wanted her. It had made her feel better to blame her father and Jon for keeping them apart rather than acknowledging that Loras, the man she had loved for so long, had let her down, hurt her…and yes, _angered_ her. 

What she had told Jon the night before about wanting to be free of her anger and hurt and confusion that surrounded her had been true. It was positively exhausting carrying all of it around with her like a valise. 

If she was honest with herself too, she could admit that on some level she had known Jon cared for her. It had just been too easy to ignore it and make him the bad guy because of what he had done. And while he had managed to wear down some of the defenses she had built up against him, she had erected new ones that he was battling hard to dismantle. It scared her. Part of her still wanted to punish him for how he’d betrayed her – if she simply forgave him what would that say about her? Would she not just be another fickle, flighty woman governed by emotion rather than reason? Her want of him could not cancel out his betrayal. In a world where men were viewed as the authority and held all the power, she had thought in Jon she had found a man that would treat her as an equal – a rare occurrence to be sure, but she knew such a man did exist for Loras was one of them. Although, Loras was not particularly her equal…

So, while she had agreed to let him try to make it up to her she wondered now in the light of day if it was it something she could actually do. The alternative was to separate from him and lead a separate life. And didn’t the alternative mean wearing her hurt like a cloak for the rest of her days? To admit defeat? If she wanted to be happy didn’t that mean she should try, too? 

With a heavy sigh, Sansa crawled out of bed and went to the window. She drew back her drapes and smiled as the sun poured into the room lighting all the dark corners. With a fresh, bright new day such as this how could she not be filled with optimism?

 _Yes,_ she thought. _We can both try._

***********

Jon caught sight of Sansa coming down the stairs with a carefree smile on her face. He crept to the side of the stairs, just out of sight, and watched her. God, she was beautiful. The soft blue of her dress made her skin glow and her eyes shine, and the sight of her smile filled him with such hope and longing that his breath caught. Could it be that she was thinking of last night? Of her promise to let him – or rather, both of them – try?

As soon as both her shoed feet landed on the floor Jon emerged from where he’d been hiding and snatched her into his arms. She let out a squeak of surprise and her blue eyes flew up to his penetrating gaze. 

“Good morning, my sweet,” he said huskily before bestowing a gentle kiss upon her lips. 

“Good morning,” she murmured as she curled her fingers around his strong arms. Her gaze didn’t quite reach his, so he chucked her under the chin to make her look up at him. 

“How are you this morning?” he asked. “Are you all right?”

She nodded, swallowed hard and nodded again. “I am well, thank you. A—and you?”

“I am feeling quite optimistic today,” he said with a rather large grin. “The Tarly’s have been asking about you considering you slept so late. They desire a trip into town. Will you join us?”

“Of course, but can I have a bit to eat first?”

He smiled and turned her towards the dining room, his arm wrapped about her waist. “I saved some breakfast for you. Come.”

After a quick breakfast of toast, tea and eggs and some conversation about their trip into town and the sights to see there, the four set off. 

Jon held onto Sansa’s hand the whole ride into town, and every once in a while he would press a kiss to the back of it and smile at her. Each smile she gave in return was small, still uncertain, but not discouraging. 

The first shop they visited was a soap and perfume shop that Gilly wanted to visit and she made Sam sniff selected soaps by holding them up to his nose. He seemed half-bored and half-amused and Sansa watched them, wondering if she could do the same with Jon – who, in fact, looked completely bored. 

Biting her lip, Sansa selected a lavender colored bar and sniffed it – a lavender scent for a lavender bar – and looked up at Jon who was surveying the room uninterestedly. 

“Jon?” 

He looked down at her. “Yes?”

She lifted the bar hesitantly. “What do you think?”

He looked stunned for a minute and then slowly broke into a smile, leaned over and sniffed it. “Perfect,” he whispered huskily and then looked up at her through hooded eyes. “Maybe I could bathe you with it.”

Sansa felt the color rise to her cheeks and for a long moment she was frozen, unable to move under Jon’s heated gaze. And then the very last person Sansa wanted to see shattered the moment. 

“Jon, how are you?” Cersei Lannister purred and placed a hand on his arm. “I did not expect to see you here of all places.” She made a big show of being surprised to see Sansa and her lips curled into a sly smile. “Oh, hello, Mrs. Snow. Didn’t see you there.”

Sansa rolled her eyes and gripped the soap in her hand tightly as she lowered her arm. “I’m sure you didn’t,” she said sardonically. 

“You poor thing, have you been dragged out into town on a shopping excursion, Jon? I bet you would rather be visiting your club or doing something much more…fulfilling than this,” Cersei said and rubbed Jon’s arm. 

Jon glared at her at the same time Sansa threw the bar of soap at Cersei without even thinking about what she was doing. It hit the other woman squarely in the chest and Cersei looked over at her in complete shock, as did Jon. When Cersei took a step toward Sansa, Jon intervened and placed himself in front of his wife. “That’s enough, Miss Lannister. I’ll thank you to shove off and leave me and my wife be.”

“How sad it must be for you to only find fulfillment on your back,” Sansa sneered from behind him. “Not a week without Mr. Baratheon and you’re already hunting for entertainment. Tell me; is it a fear to be alone that drives you? Do you get awfully tired of yourself? I can imagine with someone as droll an existence as yours that must be the case.”

“You little—” Cersei began with eyes narrowed.

“Please do show everyone how base you are, Miss Lannister,” Sansa told her with a victorious glint in her eye. “And I would be careful about casting accusations about how my husband is fulfilled, for he just got through telling me how he’d like to bathe me with that bar of soap I threw at you. Also, I rather think you should refer to my husband as Mr. Snow; you are not in any way privileged enough to use his given name and I would hate for you to make a further fool of yourself.”

Cersei stared at her and merely blinked. Jon chuckled and said, “I do believe the lady has spoken, Miss Lannister. Good day.”

Cersei stalked off in a huff after a parting glare at Sansa. Sansa watched her go and wished she could throw another bar of soap at her. And then she noticed that the few people in the shop, including Gilly and Sam, had watched the whole thing for they were staring right at her. Gilly and Sam grinned at her and Jon, then grinned at one another and continued on without comment. 

“Oh, heavens,” Sansa muttered in mortification. “My temper got the best of me again.”

Jon laughed and drew Sansa around him so he could wrap his arms around her. She wriggled against him and hissed, “Jon, we’re in the middle of a store!”

He shook his head. “I don’t care. My temperamental little vixen, do you know what you just did?”

“Made a fool of myself?”

“No, you just defended your husband’s honor. Do you know what just occurred to me?”

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously as she looked up at him. “What?”

“For one, we definitely need to buy that bar of soap, provocative thing it is, and two,” he pecked her nose. “You. Were. Jealous.”

And then he released her and walked away, leaving Sansa to stare after him as she processed his accusation.


	13. Chapter 13

After the incident in the soap shop (and Sansa did purchase a bar of the lavender), the foursome made a trip to the local bookstore. While Sam and Jon headed in one direction once inside, the women headed toward another. 

Sansa selected a book from the shelf before her at random and thumbed through it while her mind replayed the scene with Cersei over and over again in her mind along with Jon’s words: “You. Were. Jealous.”

It was a thought…an _inclination_ she’d felt before when Cersei had first approached her about Jon possibly straying. Much had happened since the incident and so she hadn’t had much time to dwell on it and now it was _all_ she could think about. 

“You know you don’t have anything to be worry about when it comes to Jon possibly straying,” Gilly said softly, jerking Sansa from her thoughts. 

Sansa looked up at her and licked her lips. “Oh?” She hoped she sounded nonchalant. 

Gilly smiled. “Surely you know he is mad for you.”

“Uh, yes, I – I know.”

“I know that liaisons outside of marriage are all the rage, but you don’t have anything to worry about it when it comes to Jon. He is utterly devoted to you. I’ve never seen a man more devoted…well, except for Sam to me. Besides, that woman would never entice a man of taste like Jon.”

Sansa smiled at that. “She is rather crass isn’t she?”

Gilly giggled. “Oh, very! Even Sam, the kind-hearted man that he is, could not see anything remotely attractive and redeeming in her. Believe me when I say that is saying something!”

The tension Sansa hadn’t known she’d held onto released and she felt relaxed; relieved. 

“Not that I wouldn’t have been able to stop my temper with a woman like that either,” Gilly assured her. “Jealousy still would have moved me to lash out no matter how much I know Sam loves me.”

“Oh, I wasn’t—” Sansa clamped her mouth shut and frowned. 

“No?” Gilly asked with an arched brow. “Not even a little jealous?”

Sansa sighed heavily, but said nothing as she looked away from Gilly and down at the book in her hands. What she couldn’t say out loud but knew to be true was that yes, she had been jealous. Very jealous. Just the thought of Jon touching that woman – just seeing Cersei’s hands on him was enough to make her blood boil!

Gilly patted her arm. “It’s okay. You don’t have to admit it out loud. It’s not easy to admit to such a weakness. It rather makes one feel vulnerable, does it not?”

Sansa looked back up at her. “I’m afraid I’m not very adept at admitting to weaknesses.”

“Show me someone who is!” Gilly laughed. “But, as Sam assures me time and again it’s just a reminder that you’re human. And really, I could think of worse vices than admitting you care enough about your husband to be jealous over another woman’s attentions.”

Gilly walked away then, leaving Sansa with that singular startling thought: her jealousy was born out of caring for her husband and not out of fear of being made a fool of. 

What an interesting and quite frightening development!

***********

The loud clap of thunder roused Jon from sleep – a restless sleep though it was. He felt…feverish. Anxious. Quite simply, he felt in desperate need of his wife. 

The day had been a good one, a step in the right direction of them making a real go of their marriage. All day he had been allowed to hold Sansa’s hand, kiss her cheek, sometimes her lips and hold her close to his side. And it hadn’t been a show for the Tarly’s, not that his showing her affection had been in the first place, though it had remained in the back of his mind – no, his shows of affection were genuine and heartfelt. 

While Sansa had been a little withdrawn for the rest of the day following the soap shop incident, Jon overlooked it _because_ of the soap shop incident. Her withdrawal was more thoughtful in nature and he knew that when he’d told her she’d been jealous of Cersei he had given her food for thought. Later, when Gilly pulled him aside to discreetly tell him of the conversation she and Sansa had had, Jon knew that was exactly what it was. 

Instead of pushing any feeling for him away from her with great force, Sansa was pondering them. And as long as she was led to the conclusion that she could and would love him in return, that was just fine with Jon.

He was learning about patience through his wife, something he had lacked previously in their marriage. He had hoped through force of will he could make her love him and banish Loras from her mind entirely, but Sansa was teaching him humility. All this time he had hoped to rouse her love by taking advantage of the passion they displayed during sex, but he had learned that using their passion as a weapon only served to make her resent him. Love could not be born from resentment and so a gentler approach was needed. She was a force to be reckoned with and oftentimes seemed larger than life to him, but she was still a woman with a woman’s needs and a woman’s heart. She needed love just as much as anyone else, and Jon was determined to give it to her. 

Crawling out of bed with thoughts of his wife running round his mind, Jon slipped on his discarded trousers and crept into her bedchamber. He just wanted a glimpse of her. 

But she was not there. 

Thunder rolled in the distance and white light flashed through the crack in her drapes. Jon had a good idea where she was. Sansa, unlike most women of his acquaintance, loved a good storm. He’d more than once found her perched on the window seat in the library where she claimed the view was the best, watching a storm rumble and crash around them. 

So, he knew she had to be there and made his way down the hall in search of her. The door to the library was open wide enough for him to slip inside and as a brilliant flash of light struck the darkness in the room, he caught sight of her on the window seat in her nightrail, her face turned up toward the sky. He could hear the rain pelting hard on the windows, overshadowed then by a loud crash of thunder. 

“Sansa,” he murmured as he approached her. 

Her head jerked toward him and she gasped. “Jon! You scared me!”

He smiled as he sat beside her, facing her. “I apologize.”

“What are you doing up?” 

“The storm woke me. I went to check on you and found you gone.”

She tossed him a small smile and looked back out the window. “I couldn’t resist coming and watching when I heard it roll in.”

Jon watched her, taking joy in the delight she seemed to take in watching the storm. Despite the loud peals of thunder, the flashes of light and the hard pelt of the rain, Sansa seemed perfectly at ease. She was an enigma to him at times, he realized. And he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Unable to resist touching her, he reached out and drew some hair over her shoulder. She looked over at him and his breath caught. 

“You’re like a siren come to take me away,” he murmured. “Or a female Zeus.”

She smiled broadly at that. “A female Zeus?”

“Passionate and bold, sometimes thunderous.”

She laughed airily. “That sounds about right.”

“And yet, much like after a good storm, there is peace to be found. Did you know that you bring that to me?”

She arched a brow. “Peace? I bring you peace? How is that possible?”

He chuckled and then caressed the side of her face. “Because in you I have found home. Before you I wondered if I belonged anywhere at all, which is why I traveled for so long, hoping to find some place I fit in, but it wasn’t until I met you that I finally found what I had been searching the world over for.”

“Maybe you needed to travel more,” she said dryly. 

He laughed and shook his head as he drew closer to her. “No, this is where I belong,” he whispered and brushed a kiss across her cheek and then trailed kisses to her ear in which he whispered, “I belong to you…whether you’re ready to accept me or not.”

She heaved in a shuddering breath and then turned her head towards him. Their breath mingled, so close were they and she watched him, waited. Jon ached to close the distance between them and cover her mouth with his but he wanted her to do it, wanted her to bridge that small gap. If she did then he’d know she was definitely softening toward him and as dedicated as he to making their marriage work. 

“Jon…” she whispered, and it sounded like a plea. 

“Yes, my love?” he asked quietly. 

She didn’t answer him, didn’t even move, just gazed up at him with wonder in her eyes. And he couldn’t wait any longer for the feel and taste of her and so he pressed his lips to hers and kissed her languidly yet ardently. Her lips parted beneath him and he rolled his tongue inside her mouth, tasting her. 

And then her hands found their way onto his bare shoulders and he groaned and drew her closer to him. When the need for air became too great, they parted, panting and staring at one another. 

The storm was fading, but the storm of need inside Jon had built to a fever pitch. He wanted her so badly he trembled. And so, keeping his gaze on hers he moved to his knees before her and lifted the nightrail up. Her eyes widened, but she did not make a move to stop him. Instead, she watched him lift her nightrail up over her thighs and then she lifted and allowed him to pull it up to her waist. He slid his hands up her legs, caressing and stroking them and then finally parting them. 

He shifted closer to her and inhaled the sweet scent of her arousal. Tentatively, he licked at her core and her body gave a jerk. She gasped, “Jon”, and curled her hands over the cushion of the window seat. 

He spread her sex with his fingers and lapped at her core, her sweet nectar falling onto his tongue. He groaned and licked deeper, harder. Her moans were like a symphony to his ears and he strove harder to bring her to completion. 

He nibbled on the center of all her pleasure and her back arched. He stroked her thighs as he suckled her clitoris in his mouth, swirled his tongue around it and then suckled again.

She tunneled his fingers through his hair and cried out her release as her back arched and the back of her head rested against the window. He stood and she looked up at him dazedly. His erection strained against his trousers and the need to bury himself inside her was great, but he refused. Not this time. He sat back down and drew her into his arms, kissed her fervently, and held her as close as he could get her to his body. 

“Jon…undress,” she whispered. 

He smiled with the knowledge that she wanted him inside her. “No, love. Not this time.”

”What do you mean?” she asked and looked up at him in confusion. 

“This was for you, all for you,” he whispered. “Just kiss me, Sansa, that’s all I want. Just kiss me.”

This time there was no hesitation. She wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him close and kissed him with all the urgency he felt coursing through him.


	14. Chapter 14

The following morning, before anyone was up, Sansa took Lady out for a ride and ended up in her favorite spot on the rocks. Lady grazed nearby, hitched to a tree, while Sansa sought to gather her thoughts and rampant emotions. 

After their incident in the library, Jon had carried Sansa to her bedchamber, tucked her in, kissed her softly, and bid her goodnight. Sansa had stared at the top of her canopy bed thinking about the day’s events and fought the urge to go to Jon and demand he finish what he’d started in the library. She had stayed awake until her lids had shut from sheer exhaustion. 

This morning she had awoken much too early for the time she had finally fallen asleep, and as a result she felt as though fatigue was wreaking havoc with her emotions. Sansa felt like crying, and even as she thought it, the tears started to come. 

Something was happening to her, or rather something _had_ happened to her. It was something she had felt happening to her for quite some time and was now only beginning to make sense. Or rather, she was now only willing to acknowledge it. 

She was falling in love with her husband. 

“Sansa?”

Sansa’s head jerked to the side and she was startled to find Gilly approaching her. The other woman smiled kindly and gestured to the boulder next to the one Sansa was perched on. “Do you mind?”

Sansa shook her head and wiped hastily at her tears, hoping Gilly didn’t see them. “Not at all. Please.”

Gilly sat gingerly upon the rock and heaved a deep breath. “Beautiful morning.”

Sansa nodded and gazed out at the land before her. “It is…I – I didn’t know you were up.”

Gilly smiled. “I like the air after a storm. It feels… _clear_ somehow, you know?”

Sansa nodded and smiled. “I do.”

“And you? How are you this morning? Did you hear the storm last night or did you sleep right through it?”

“Oh, I heard it. I went to the library to watch it. The view is the best there.”

Gilly laughed softly. “Sounds like fun. And Jon? Did he join you?”

“Eventually, yes.” Sansa felt her cheeks redden at the memory of the moment the storm had faded from her focus and her world had narrowed to Jon and just Jon.

“I believe Sam and I will be leaving this afternoon,” Gilly sighed after a moment of silence.

“Oh? Why?”

“There is more we want to see of the country before we head home.” She smiled apologetically at Sansa. “He likes to travel. He has a bit of an adventurous spirit.”

“And you? Do you share the same adventurous spirit?”

Gilly shook her head and sighed. “I’m afraid not. He is teaching me to appreciate traveling and seeing new things – who does not enjoy that? But I do like to be home as well. He indulges me to a point and I indulge him to a point. It’s all about compromise as you know.”

Sansa bit her lip and nodded. Compromise? She couldn’t really point to a moment in her and Jon’s marriage where either of them had compromised very much. They’d been too busy battling for the upper hand. Or in Jon’s case, as she now saw it, he was battling for her heart in a rather aggressive manner and she had spent every second and ounce of energy trying to resist him and hold onto something that had never really existed to begin with. The tears came before she could stop them.

“Sansa? Are you all right?” Gilly asked gently. 

Sansa wiped at her eyes. “I am. I apologize.”

“No need to apologize. Is, uh, is everything all right with you and Jon? Did you have a fight over that Cersei woman?” Gilly asked. 

“No, no, it wasn’t anything like that,” Sansa said, horrified that now she was giving into the tears and full out crying. “I’m just—oh, I can’t tell you!”

“Nonsense. You can tell me anything! We’re friends, are we not?”

“But you hate me!” Sansa blurted out. “You don’t think I’m a good wife for Jon and you know I never…” 

“I know you never wanted to marry him?” Gilly asked softly. 

Sansa nodded and wiped at her eyes. 

“But you want him now, don’t you?”

Sansa nodded and promptly cried harder. 

“Perhaps you’d like to tell me why this fact seems to upset you rather than please you?”

“I can’t,” Sansa whispered. “You’d think me awful.”

“Surprise me. I may just surprise you.”

“Gilly—”

“Please, Sansa, tell me what is troubling you.” Gilly reached across the boulder and grasped Sansa’s hand. “I see how happy you make Jon and I see how happy he makes you. How could I not have changed my opinion of you?”

“If you knew that it was all a lie, a show, you would,” Sansa said raggedly. 

“Sansa, please, unburden yourself and tell me what is wrong. Tell me the truth; no matter how ugly you think it is.”

Despite how much Sansa knew Gilly was sure to hate her when she learned the truth, the simple fact of the matter was she could no longer keep it in. She had to tell someone or she’d go mad and besides, Gilly and Sam were leaving that day. Even if Gilly found the truth distinctly horrifying there was one development that would please her: the revelation that Sansa was falling for her husband. 

When Sansa was done she was surprised to find that instead of looking at her in disgust, Gilly looked upon her in gentle understanding. “Do you feel better?”

“That I said that all out loud? Yes, but now I worry about what you must think of me,” Sansa admitted. 

“Well, hold onto your bonnet, Sansa.” She leaned forward with a grin. “I don’t think of you as a horrible person.”

Sansa gaped at her. “You don’t?”

“I think you were put into a situation in which you felt you had no control, and those in which you trusted to let you have that control over your life – as little as we women have – betrayed you. It’s not that you hated Jon, I remember him telling me about the beginning of your acquaintance with him and it sounded as though you rather liked him.”

“I did.”

“And then he acted without thought. He wanted you and he set out to have you. Now, I can’t completely fault Jon for he is my friend and I am loyal to him, but I can fault how he went about it.”

“The thing is, and I can see it now, I would have waited forever for Loras,” Sansa said. “He was never going to offer for me and if Jon had made his intentions clear to me and courted me properly I would have put him off again and again to wait for Loras.”

“Are you saying that if Jon hadn’t forged ahead and demanded your hand you and he wouldn’t have gotten anywhere?”

Sansa sighed. “Well, I suppose when Loras finally wed we would have.”

“Do you forgive Jon for how he went about obtaining your hand in marriage?”

“By degrees I suppose I have. But I’m afraid to trust him…it seems when I give my heart and my trust to a man they stomp all over it.”

“And yet you don’t want to live your life closed off from the opportunity to love and let yourself be loved, do you?” Gilly asked softly. 

“No, I don’t. I told him I want to be happy, and I meant it. It’s just that my mind is a whirl and my emotions are raging…I was drawn to that storm last night in particular because I felt as though it reflected what was happening inside me.”

Gilly smiled and patted her hand. “I understand that. What you need is time. And Jon, it seems, is willing to give it to you. Don’t rush things, Sansa. You’re moving at a steady clip now and if you feel you need more time to come to terms with it all, then take it. I will say, however, that part of what blocks you is Loras and the unfinished business you have with him.”

“Pardon?”

“You loved him.”

“Yes, I did. Though it now seems more as though it was the love of a different woman. A younger, more naïve and less jaded woman. I don’t feel like the same person anymore.”

Gilly smiled wanly. “I understand girlish love all too well. There was a man for me before Sam. I thought I loved him and I thought he loved me too. Turns out though he was only kind to me because he thought I was an ‘amusing kid’ and he was a friend of my father’s. Granted, I did not realize this until much later, not until I had met and fallen madly in love with Sam. I realized the difference then between the two. I loved that man as a young girl. I fell in love with Sam as a grown woman. I rather think that is the difference between your love for Loras and Jon.”

Sansa pondered this, but said nothing. She had committed to much already that morning, she couldn’t commit to anymore.

“What you’ve got to do in make peace with what happened with Loras. He led you to believe one thing and then did another. If you don’t find a way to let that go, you’ll never be able to move on. You hold Jon accountable for his actions, well; you’ve got to hold Loras accountable too.”

“And my father,” Sansa murmured. 

“Oh, the damage family can do,” Gilly sighed and then laughed a little. “My father was practically nonexistent and any attempts to forge a relationship between the two of us have been met with resistance. He is simply uninterested and I have stopped trying. I fear Sam bears the result of that at times. Sometimes I lean on him a little too hard.”

“He doesn’t seem to mind if you do,” Sansa offered. 

Gilly smiled. “He doesn’t. He rather enjoys being needed.” She looked over at Sansa. “Much as Jon does. Especially by you. In fact…I think _only_ by you.”

Sansa didn’t reply, simply considered Gilly’s words as she turned back to the view and let the gentle breeze that passed through wash over her, cleanse her. After a long, comfortable silence she looked over at Gilly. “So, you don’t hate me?”

Gilly smiled and patted her hand. “I don’t hate you. I find I rather like you, Sansa.”

Sansa smiled gratefully. “I like you, too. And now I fear I shall miss you when you leave. I don’t have many friends and having one I find is rather nice. Are you sure you can’t stay another day at least?”

Gilly smiled and shook her head. “No, I cannot. And I rather think now is the best time for Sam and I to shove off. I think you and Jon need some time alone without having a show to put on. The test will be when we leave and what will transpire once our carriage is out of sight.”

“That,” Sansa sighed, “Is what scares me the most.”

“Why?

Sansa sighed. “Because our pretending is what brought us to this place where we are moving ahead, at a steady clip as you said, and having you and Sam here has been beneficial when Jon…”

Gilly grinned. “When Jon is a little too intense and you need room to breathe?”

Sansa nodded and reddened. “Yes. And now I feel awful for admitting that. I don’t want you to think that is the only reason I want you to stay!”

Gilly laughed and shook her head. “No, don’t fret. I understand completely. But you know you can tell Jon to give you some breathing room, don’t you? That man is head over heels in love with you, Sansa, and if you tell him you need some time and some room, he’ll give it to you. All he needs is a little reassurance that there is hope for him. If you give him just that for now, he will give you the world.”

********

Shortly after their talk, Gilly and Sansa headed back to the house. When Gilly departed into her bedchamber with a wink, Sansa smiled and walked slowly down to her own bedchamber. Just before she reached it Jon stepped out of his and looked startled to see her. 

“Dressed already?” he asked. 

“I went for a walk,” she told him, ignoring how her heart leapt at the sight of him. “Gilly met me out there. We had a nice talk.”

He smiled, though she wasn’t certain if it was because she was sharing far more than she’d ever had before with him or because of the news that she and Gilly had had a nice talk. 

“No more fear that she hates you?” he asked. 

Sansa smiled and shook her head. “No. We’ve discovered that we like each other quite a bit.”

“Excellent.”

“And she informed me that she and Sam will be leaving today.”

Jon’s smile fell and he sighed. “Oh, well. It was inevitable I suppose, but it was rather nice having them here wasn’t it?”

“Oh yes,” she said in all innocence, knowing quite well that the Tarly’s had served a greater purpose for Jon. A purpose in which he was succeeding at. 

“Will you be down for breakfast?” 

“As soon as I bathe and change.”

He nodded and slowly passed by her. “I will see you downstairs then,” he said softly. 

She watched him go, knowing he’d wanted to kiss her but not knowing if she would have accepted it after the night before. Gilly’s words came back to her: _All he needs is a little reassurance that there is hope for him._

“Jon?” Sansa said as she turned around. 

He turned, already halfway down the hallway and faced her. 

“Yes?”

Without a word she marched up to him, took his face in her hands and kissed him softly. He groaned and started to wrap his arms around her, but before he could, she pushed away and smiled. “See you at breakfast.” 

She hurried down the hall and before entering her bedchamber looked down the hall towards Jon and found him standing there, watching her, with a positively blinding smile on his face.


	15. Chapter 15

Silence permeated the Snow estate as soon as the Tarly’s were off, their carriage moving at a steady clip down the long drive. Jon looked toward Sansa with a nervous smile and wondered how it was possible to feel this uncertain in her presence after everything they had been through. 

“So, did you have a good time with them?” he asked her. 

She nodded with a polite smile. “I did. Perhaps we could visit them next?”

“We could do that,” Jon said. He groped for something to say and came up with nothing. What he wanted to do was drag Sansa to him and kiss her senseless, but he was afraid to. They’d been making strides the past few days and after Gilly’s warning to him that afternoon to “take it slow”, the last thing he wanted to do was impede any progress by pawing at her like some kind of animal. 

Jon had been both parts dismayed and pleased to find Gilly surprisingly tight-lipped about what she and Sansa had talked about that morning. Dismayed because aside from her “take it slow” advice, he had a feeling there was beneficial information to be gathered from their talk, and he was pleased to find that Gilly truly did consider Sansa enough of a friend to keep her confessions a secret. Sansa needed female friends and Gilly was a good one to have. 

“I have some work to see to,” he blurted out at the same time Sansa started to speak. He looked at her apologetically and asked, “What were you going to say?”

She turned pink and glanced down at her feet before answering, “I think I should take a nap. I’m a little tired from my early morning walk.”

Jon had a feeling that was not what she had been about to say, but he didn’t press the issue. Instead he nodded and excused himself. 

Sansa watched Jon go and bit her bottom lip. She had been about to suggest a ride, but since he’d seemed eager to get away from her for some reason she decided to let that go and let him do whatever it was he needed to do. Her husband was a mystery to her at times. She would have thought with the Tarly’s gone he would have pulled her into one of those all-consuming kisses, but instead he’d looked at her as though he didn’t know quite what to do with her. That was unusual. She rather thought Jon prided himself on always knowing what to do with her! 

With a sigh, she trudged up the stairs to her bedchamber to lie down and think of what next to do with her husband. 

***********

Sansa rapped softly on Jon’s study door two hours later. He muttered, “Come in” and she entered, butting the door open with her bottom as she had a tray of coffee, cold meats and bread for Jon’s luncheon. 

He looked up from having been hunched over papers and his eyes widened at the sight of her. He jumped up and went over to her, grabbed the tray from her hands and placed it down upon his desk. “This is a nice surprise,” he said warmly. “I expected Lucy.”

“I caught her in the hallway with the tray and offered to take it,” Sansa explained. “She wasn’t so certain she should hand it over, but I convinced her. Will you eat now? Or shall I just leave this and go?”

He reached out and took her hand and squeezed it gently. “Stay,” he said softly. “Have you eaten?”

“I have.”

“Well, I cannot possibly eat all this. Share with me?”

She smiled. “Sure.”

He gestured for her to sit in the high back chair opposite his desk and he went back to the chair at his desk and set about preparing a small plate of food. Sansa assumed it was for him, but when he handed it to her she smiled graciously and accepted it. 

“How was your nap?” Jon asked as he prepared his own plate. 

“Oh, it was fine,” she lied. She hadn’t actually slept; she’d spent all her time wondering how to approach him. She had determined not to bother him until she saw him at dinner and had decided to get some fresh air when she’d come across Lucy coming down the hall. Sansa had seen the opportunity and taken it. “How is business going?”

“Boring,” he admitted and laughed. 

Sansa placed her plate on his desk and stood. She made her way around to him and peered over the papers he had strewn about. “What is it you’re working on?”

“Correspondence mainly right now. A few figures.”

“What sort of correspondence?”

“Well, a few of the businesses I help ask for advice on what to do. Many are upstarts and so they require some direction and advice.”

She grinned cheekily. “Do you charge for your advice?”

He chuckled. “No, but I receive my due when my advice works.”

“Does it always work?”

“Not always. But I learn from my mistakes.”

“Do you consider any of them friends?”

“What an odd sort of question,” he murmured. 

She smiled and shrugged. “I can’t imagine corresponding and investing in these businesses and not having some sort of relationship with them. Especially since they ask for your advice. It’s not just businesses you’ve invested in, but the people as well.”

He looked up at her admiringly. “What a soft heart you have.”

“Surprise,” she said with a little laugh. “So, do you consider some of them friends?”

“I do, in a way. I know about their families, about what is happening in their lives outside of the work they do and I know what they want out of life.”

“Then I would say you are friends,” she murmured. “Can you tell me about some of them?”

He blinked. “You want to know about my business associates?”

“And friends. Your business associates and friends. And yes, I do. I want to know about the people you help.”

He grinned. “Propriety dictates a woman shouldn’t inquire about a man’s professional life.”

“Jon, when have I ever followed what propriety dictates?” she drawled, causing JON to laugh. 

“Fair enough,” he said and got up. He made his way around the desk, grabbed the chair she had been sitting on and pulled it next to his. “Have a seat, my love.”

For the next hour Jon told Sansa about his business associates “and friends”. She asked questions, taking an active interest in what he was telling her and she expressed to him the desire to meet them all. Jon had laughed and told her that when they took their next trip to the city, he would have her meet each and every single one. 

“Can I bring something to them?” she asked.

“Bring something?” he asked in confusion. “Like what?”

“A gift…perhaps a pie?”

“A pie for each of them? That would amount to a carriage full of pies!”

She shrugged. “It seems like a nice thing to do. Some of them sound as though they are struggling.”

“Many new businesses struggle until they can build a reputation,” he told her. 

“A gift might lift their spirits and let them know we don’t just think of them as a means to an end, but as people.”

Jon smiled as he reached out to her and caressed the side of her face. “My little ambassador.”

“Or perhaps we could have a dinner at your place in town—”

“ _Our_ place.”

“Yes, of course, our place. We could have a dinner for all of them. It would give them an opportunity to share stratagems with one another and induce them to support each other. What do you think?”

Jon smiled broadly at how excited and engaged she seemed with the idea. “I think that sounds like a wonderful idea, Sansa.”

She beamed at him and stood. “When can we prepare a trip?”

He laughed as he stood and drew her into his arms. “It will take some time to prepare—”

“Two weeks?”

“Two weeks.”

She beamed up at him and Jon could no longer resist; he leaned down and brushed his lips across hers gently. He meant to stop there, but one taste of her was not enough and he found himself deepening the kiss. He urged her lips to part and when she parted them, he tasted her further with his tongue. He was pleased to find Sansa kissing him back with equal passion, her hands gripping his arms as though she would fall over if she didn’t. 

“Sansa…” he whispered as he broke the kiss to trail kisses along her jaw and down her sleek neck. He was close to losing control, of taking her right there in his study and though he had a feeling she would not resist him, he didn’t want to make love to her yet. He wanted their relationship to be more than just sex; he wanted to build what was growing between them even more. 

So, with great difficulty, Jon pulled back and gazed down at her flushed face, her eyes that sparkled with desire. She looked up at him in question and he smiled and caressed the side of her face. “We’re doing well, are we not?”

She nodded. 

“My hope…it’s not in vain?”

She shook her head and he pressed his forehead against hers and shut his eyes briefly. “Thank you,” he whispered. 

“Jon, I…I think I need to do something. Gilly and I talked about it this morning; she said that maybe I needed some closure from Loras.”

His smile fell and he pulled away to look at her. “Pardon?” 

She bit her lip and averted her eyes to somewhere past him. “I…I need to see Loras. I want to put all of that to rest—”

Jon walked away from her in an effort not to rage at hearing _his_ name at such a time. 

“Listen to me, don’t – don’t get angry,” she pleaded. 

“Why do you _need_ to see him?” he demanded as he turned to face her. “And I highly doubt there should ever be any reason you _need_ to see him.”

“There is, if we’re to keep progressing as we are, I do need to see him.”

“ _Why_ , Sansaa?”

Placing her hands on her hips, she glared at him. “You don’t have to take such a tone with me, Jon Snow.”

“Just tell me what it’s about, Sansa!”

“I want to hear him tell me he was never going to offer for me!” she hollered back. 

“Excuse me?” he asked harshly and narrowed his eyes at her. 

“You said he wasn’t going to offer for me, and I believe you were right. But in order for me to put it to rest, once and for all, so that you and I can continue trying, I need to hear him say it so that I can tell him goodbye.”

Jon heaved a deep breath, looked her square in the eye and said, “No. Absolutely not.”


	16. Chapter 16

“Did you hear what I said? Did you hear _why_ I want to see him?” Sansa asked with her hands on her hips. 

"I can do without your patronizing tone, Sansa," Jon told her warningly. 

"Funny, that. I was thinking I could do without your controlling behavior."

"Do you honestly think Loras is going to let you say goodbye to him?"

She blinked. "What do you mean?"

"That spineless idiot isn't going to let you say goodbye to him! He might not have wanted you, but he doesn't want to lose your idolatry either. He'll find some way to make sure you’re always there, fluttering about him, ready to drop anything and everything for whenever he crooks his finger in your direction."

Sansa pursed her lips together and her face reddened from anger. Her hands balled into fists at her sides and Jon thought for a minute that she just might strike him. "First of all, I could have done without hearing how he didn't want me. No one likes to hear such a thing; no matter if it's true, and even if it is in this case. It’s callous and rude."

"Don't tell me you've grown sensitive on me now," he returned condescendingly. 

"Like it would matter to you if I had. As long as you get what you want who cares how anyone else might feel.”

“You know that’s not true,” he ground out. 

“And _secondly_ , you’ve built Loras in your twisted mind as something he’s not. He is not the sort to play games, he would not keep me around as you’re implying if I wanted to say goodbye—” Jon snorted and Sansa glared at him and shouted, “Perhaps that would be something you would do!”

Jon closed the gap between them and said in harsh sotto voce, “That man is not as innocent as you believe, and if you think he wouldn’t find some way to ensure your ‘friendship’ with him remained intact then you have much to learn.”

“No, Jon, _you_ have much to learn,” she hissed and pushed him away from her forcefully. 

Jon was nonplussed by her push and he reached out, grabbed her, and hauled her up against him. “You are mine, Sansa, remember that. You have my name, my ring on your finger, and you’ve given me your body. You belong to me.”

She pushed out of his arms with great difficulty and declared angrily, “I belong to no man and you’d do well to remember _that_!”

Turning on heel, she stormed away from him. 

“Sansa, get back here!” he shouted. 

She spun around at the door and said venomously, “What are you going to do if I don’t, Jon? Force me? You’re good at that.”

That froze him in his tracks and without waiting for a response; Sansa opened the door with great flourish and walked out, slamming the door behind her. 

Jon stared at the shut door with a heavy heart. Just when they had been doing so well…

The air felt heavy and oppressive around him, the room small and narrow. He propelled forward, his correspondence and business forgotten. He needed air, needed the wind across his face. It was time for a ride. 

*************

Sansa slammed her bedchamber door shut and began pacing briskly across the room. No. She needed air. She needed…to get away. Yes, that’s exactly what she needed. To get away. 

She stopped short. Where could she go? She thought of Gilly and Sam in the city, but they had just left and they weren’t going home right away. 

Home. 

Her parents. She could go home and see her parents and her siblings. 

And then she thought of Jon’s kisses, his ardent affection, and she felt a part of her melt. Their row came rushing back and she pursed her lips together in defiance. No, blast him!

The sound of hooves beating on the ground jarred her from her thoughts and she marched to the open window and peered out. Jon was on Ghost, barreling full speed across the field. 

Her lips curved into a devious, triumphant smile. Perfect time for a leave for a stay at her parents’ home. 

*************

About halfway to her parents’ home Sansa felt regret. Her temper had cooled and the need to anger Jon further by leaving without waiting for him to return didn’t seem such an enticing prospect. 

This wasn’t trying. This was giving up. This was more of the same of them hurting one another. It seemed an endless cycle between them: she’d hurt him, he’d hurt her, they’d lash out in the most vexing way possible, and would then be met with retaliation that stung just as much if not more. Then they’d both retreat to their corners, lick their wounds, and all would be silent for a time until it happened once again. 

Was this how it was to eternally be between them?

Tears stung her eyes. She couldn’t live like this. This could not be her life with Jon. And she was sure he didn’t want this to be his life with her either. It had to stop. She raised her hand to the top of the carriage to knock on it and tell the driver to turn back round so she could return to Jon. She wanted to tell she was through with this madness when she caught sight of a man nearly stumbling past the carriage with his head hung low. He had wavy golden hair, and had a tall and lean gait. He looked a mess – his clothing in disarray, his hair mussed and his face streaked with tears and –

“Loras!” she exclaimed and pounded on the top of the carriage. 

In his disheveled state she hadn’t recognized him at first. The carriage came to a stop and the footmen came round to open the door and help her out. She all but knocked him over in her haste to run after Loras. Her maid hollered for her to stop, but Sansa ran down the path after Loras. What had happened to upset him so?

“Loras, stop!” she called. 

Loras kept going and finally, Sansa managed to catch up with him. She grabbed hold of his arm and turned him to her. She gasped at the sight of him. Lord, but he was a mess. 

And was that blood on his cheek?

His eyes widened at the sight of her and then he started to cry as he fell into her, wrapping his arms around her tightly and holding her so tightly she nearly fell backward. 

She felt something against her middle, something…wet. 

The sound of a carriage rumbling past pulled her from her shock and she gently pushed at Loras as he sobbed against her. He finally broke his grasp on her and Sansa looked down at him and her eyes went wide. She gasped and felt herself sway. 

Blood. Blood was on Loras’s shirtfront and on his jacket, his waistcoat gone. 

“Wh—what happened?” she whispered. 

“Jeyne,” he managed to whisper. Jeyne was his wife. Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes and then spilt over. 

“What happened to her, Loras?” Sansa asked woodenly, unable to keep her eyes off the blood on his shirt. 

“She—she slipped down the stairs yesterday. The doctor was concerned about the damage she’d done to the baby and her head…she’d hit it against the floor rather hard when she landed. He told her to rest as much as she could. I went for a ride this morning while she napped When I got back I went to ch-check on her and the servants were all around her. They’d sent for—for a doctor, but Jeyne…” he buried his face in his hands and sobbed into them. “She was already gone.

Sansa placed a hand over her mouth and sent a prayer up above to Jeyne and her child. “You left?”

“I couldn’t stay,” he said. He sounded so lost and looked so lost and utterly broken that Sansa’s eyes filled with tears. 

“Loras, you need to go back. Preparations need to be made—”

“I can’t go back!” he shouted so loudly his voice cracked. 

“All right, all right,” she said softly and placed a gentle hand upon his arm. “We’re almost to my parent’s home. Let’s get in the carriage and go there. My father will do what needs to be done, all right?”

Loras nodded mutely and she slipped her arm through his for support since he looked about ready to drop, and led him slowly back to the carriage. She thought of going back home, of going to Jon, but she wasn’t sure that even in this state Jon would accept Loras’s presence in their home. 

No, she’d go to her father. Her father would know what to do and between her mother and Robb, they could find some way to bring solace to the very devastated man at her side. 

She hoped. 

**********

“She went _where_?!” Jon roared to Mrs. Jones once he’d returned from his ride and found Sansa gone. 

Mrs. Jones didn’t even flinch. “She went home, sir, I just told you. She had some things packed, too.”

Jon glared at the immovable Mrs. Jones and stalked back out of the house and back towards the stables. Ghost needed a rest, but there was no reason he couldn’t take another horse – possibly Sansa’s precious Lady – and go after his wife. 

What did she mean to do by going to her parents? Anger him? Hurt him? He stopped short. 

Leave him?

Surely she wouldn’t. Not after one spat that in no way compared to their other rows. And how sad was it to compare the level of this row to their others. All were destructive, all had had the purpose of hurting the other as much as they could and all had been about fighting for supremacy. 

But things were different now, weren’t they? They’d been making progress and had even been considerate of one another. Their passion the night before had been sweet and not at all about domination. 

Yet no matter how many times they had fought Sansa had never left this way. And certainly not to her parents. _No,_ he thought resolutely, _I can’t let things end this way. I can’t let them end at all! ._

Quickly, Jon made his way into the stables and barked orders to the stable hand for a horse to be prepared. And as soon as one was ready, he was off, barreling down the long drive. He had just about made it to the end when a carriage rounded the corner and Jon’s heart lifted as he thought for a moment that it was Sansa having come back, but no, this was not his carriage. 

It was Cersei Lannister’s. 

Jon groaned and brought the horse to a stop as the carriage pulled up beside him. Sure enough, Cersei climbed out with the help of a footman and before Jon could even issue a greeting she blurted out: “I just saw your wife in the arms of Loras Tyrell.”


	17. Chapter 17

Loras didn’t want to stop at the Tyrells for he wasn’t up to seeing anyone in the state he was in. 

“Do you want to go home?” Sansa asked him. 

He nodded as he stared out the window, his eyes full of tears that she could tell he was trying to keep at bay. 

But when they reached his home, he didn’t want to stop there either. Instead, he instructed the driver to continue down the lane and take the road that would loop around behind both estates and eventually, after a long and circuitous route, bring them back where they’d started from. 

Sansa watched him silently, her heart breaking at the sight of him so broken and utterly defeated. He stared out the window, wiping furiously at tears and looking so lost Sansa feared he’d never be found. 

“You really loved her, didn’t you?” she found herself asking after a long while. 

He nodded and whispered, “In my own way, yes.”

Sansa wasn’t sure what he meant by “in my own way”, but it didn’t surprise her as she thought it might. Perhaps because she had suspected he did all along but just hadn’t been willing to acknowledge it. See it. Face it. Now, in light of recent events with Jon, she could. And though she wished she could say she didn’t feel a thing upon hearing that Loras had loved his wife, that wouldn’t have been true. The sting wasn’t as sharp as she thought it would have been though, not as sharp as it had been when she’d learned he’d gotten married. 

Loras had possibly never loved her and that was just a fact she couldn’t ignore and deny any longer. And she didn’t want to. Living in denial hadn’t gotten her anywhere but stuck in a rut and fighting with her husband, when what they could have been doing was learning about one another the way they had the past few days. Not that she was willing to shoulder all the blame for their discord, Lord knew that was not the case at all, but she could admit to at least half. 

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask Loras if he had ever loved her, but now was not the time. There might never be a time to ask such a thing, and that was going to have to be enough. In light of death and Loras’s devastation, it seemed paltry to be wondering about such things and so Sansa cleared her throat and said gently, “Loras, arrangements need to be made for Jeyne. I know you are not ready to go home, and you don’t have to, but it needs to be taken care of. For her sake.”

He nodded. “I know, I know.” He sounded choked with tears. “We’ll go to your parents. Robb will help me.”

“We will all help you, Loras. You’re not alone.”

He shook his head. “I am. I am alone now. No wife, no child to call my own. I am alone.”

“You think you are, but you’re not. You have friends that are willing to help you. We will help you get through this.”

He said nothing, just cried silently, huddled in the corner of the carriage. Sansa watched him and wondered – how would Jon handle such a thing? Would he be stoic and making arrangements for her burial as though unaffected, or would he be as wrought with grief as Loras was? And what if something happened to Jon? 

Oh heavens, the very idea had her breath catching. 

And suddenly she wanted to see him. _Needed_ to see him. Loras hadn’t thought when he’d left for a ride that afternoon that he would come home to his wife having died and miscarried. Tragedies could happen on _any_ day. Jon could leave for a ride one day and Ghost could get spooked and throw Jon off causing him to break his neck. Or he could be taking the carriage out and have it overturn. And the same could happen to her. 

She thought of how upset Jon had been when she’d forced Lady to make that jump. The fear in his eyes the way he’d pleaded with her not to do it and then made her promise never to do it again. She looked toward Loras, a complete wreck over the loss of his wife, and understood.

Jon loved her. Granted, he didn’t always show it in the best way and his possessiveness and tendency to control needed some work, but the reality was he did love her and as he had said he wouldn’t have been able to bear it if anything happened to her. Just as she wouldn’t be able to bear it if anything happened to him. 

Her urgency to see him grew with rapid force, but there was no way to push the team of horses faster, and she could not very well abandon Loras either. A flood of fresh regret rose up within her. She shouldn’t have left the way she did, she should have gone for a walk or a ride or done anything else but leave the house while he was gone. He’d be angry with her – angrier than he had been he’d left. And she knew how his mind worked…he’d think she went to see Loras on her own. Truthfully, the thought had passed through her mind. 

Now this. Now instead of being on her way back to Jon, back to confront him and tell him she was tired of having the same tired arguments, she had happened upon grief. Death. 

Jeyne’s blood was on Loras’ shirt front, and some now on her from the force of his hug and she felt death on her. Surrounding her. Making it difficult to breathe. 

“If it was a boy we were going to name it after me. If it was a girl Jeyne was determined to name her Aurora,” Loras said softly. 

“Aurora is a pretty name.”

“It means dawn in Latin.”

“And the name of a Roman Goddess, no?”

Loras looked over at her and nodded, a slight smile on his face. 

Sansa smiled sympathetically and reached over to touch his hand that sat upon his knee. He placed one hand over hers and let it rest there. 

“I did love her despite my predilection for…” He cleared his throat and shook his head. “We were happy, in any case. I knew when I met her that we could make a go of it.” 

“When did you meet her, Loras?” she asked softly. 

“Last year at a ball.”

Sansa bit back a gasp by biting down on her bottom lip. The whole time she had been following him around like a fawning miss he had already been in pursuit of Jeyne…

“That’s why you were suddenly so fond of balls when before you despised them,” she blurted out. 

He smiled faintly and nodded. “Yes.”

Sansa supposed she had seen him waltz with her a time or two, but it was Loras, and he waltzed with many young women. Stupidly though, she had never given it any thought, never thought he could have actually cared for one of them. Not when he’d had her. 

But she’d never had him. 

“I thought her father would never agree to the match for they’d had their sights set on someone else entirely. And I’d thought she’d set her cap for the boy and so I tried to…move on.”

Move on…Sansa winced. Did he mean he’d tried to move on with her? 

“I never forgot her though…” he murmured. “Just when everyone thought the young buck would ask for her hand and after Jon had asked for yours, I went away. News reached me that he hadn’t asked after all and so I came home, determined to win her hand.” He smiled warmly. “And she consented. Followed by her family.”

Again, Sansa winced. Had he been about to propose to her because he’d thought Jeyne was going to marry someone else? Had she been the consolation prize?

She didn’t feel so inclined to ask though because she knew. 

She _had_ been the consolation prize. 

Oh, God, Jon had saved her from marrying a man who would have spent the rest of his days pining for another woman. 

Her eyes shut with the realization that that was exactly the fate Jon had been suffering since their marriage. 

The urge to see him grew even stronger and she rather felt as though she could jump out of the carriage and run home. And then she looked at Loras’ wrecked state and felt guilty for wanting to see to her own needs and wants in the face of his devastation. 

Would Jon come looking for her? Surely Mrs. Jones would tell him she’d left for her parents and she had no choice at the moment but to finally see Loras there. Would Jon stay at their estate, or would he go to her parents to find her?

Loras fell silent, lost in his musings of Jeyne and Sansa willed the horses to go faster. 

**************

“What do you mean you don’t know where she is?” Jon demanded of Catelyn Stark as he stood in her foyer. “She is supposed to be here!”

“She isn’t!” Catelyn insisted as she wrung her hands together, her blue eyes full of worry and dismay. Robb, Sansa’s eldest brother, stood on the steps behind them, watching intently with wide eyes. 

“And you say Loras Tyrell is at home?”

“He has to be. My husband received a note from his estate requesting his presence there immediately. I did not see the note, nor did my husband bother to share with me what the note said save for he was needed. He told me he had to leave to see about Mr. Tyrell and left.”

Jon raked a hand through his hair. Was Sansa there with Loras? Was that why her father was needed? And what of the embrace Cersei had seen? 

“I’m going there,” Jon muttered and darted out of the house. 

“Jon, don’t go!” Catelyn called after him as he jogged down the stairs to his waiting horse. “Wait here for her!”

“If she is with him,” Jon said darkly, “then I need to get her and bring her home where she belongs.”

“If that is indeed where she is, then you can rest assured that Ned will bring her here, Jon. Stay. And wait. At least for an hour. If they are not back by then, then you may take your leave to go after her.”

Jon hesitated and frowned thoughtfully. If Ned had been sent to Loras’ estate to collect his daughter – if that was in fact where she had gone (and where the bloody hell else would she have gotten off to?) – then it stood to reason that Ned would bring his daughter back to the Stark estate. It would be far too late to send her home after that. 

He sighed heavily and nodded as he slowly made his way up the stairs. “One hour.”

******************

It was dusk when the carriage containing Loras and Sansa rolled onto the lane that led to the Stark estate. Never had Sansa been so happy to see her childhood home. 

It had been a long journey in the carriage, and while Sansa did not want to abandon Loras to his misery, she found she rather needed help with it. She didn’t know what to say or what even to do to ease his pain. And she’d realized not long ago that there was nothing she _could_ do. Nothing but be his friend and listen to him for she did not possess magical healing powers that would eradicate what he was going through. 

Her mother would help get Loras settled and her father would see to Loras’ affairs until he could handle them himself. And then she would send word to Jon, if he had not already found his way to the Stark’s, and tell him what had happened and ask him to come to her. By the time she got Loras inside the house and settled, it would be too late to go home, and though she desperately wanted to, Jon would definitely wring her neck if anything happened to her on the way home. 

The carriage jerked to a stop and swearing was heard by the footmen and driver outside. Sansa jerked forward and braced herself against the seat. 

The door flew open then and Sansa opened her mouth to ask the footmen what was going on when Jon stepped inside the carriage. 

“Jon!” she gasped. 

His eyes locked on her and he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her out of the carriage. Once her feet were planted on the ground he started to say, “Where the hell have—”

But then she threw her arms around him and held onto him tight and talking ceased.


	18. Chapter 18

Jon didn’t know what to make of an armful of Sansa. He especially didn’t know what to make of it when she started to cry. 

“I’m so relieved you’re here!” she exclaimed. 

Jon finally found his voice. “Sansa, what the hell is going on?”

She pulled back and wiped at her eyes furiously. “It’s terrible, truly terrible and—”

“What happened to you!” he burst out in horror at the sight of the blood on her dress. He ran his hands over her arms and then over her stomach. “Have you been hurt?”

She opened her mouth to reply when a familiar male voice that Jon most definitely never wanted to hear said, “She’s fine, Mr. Snow. It’s not her blood.”

Jon looked past Sansa to Loras stepping onto the ground and he noted the blood on Loras’ shirt. “What is going on?” he asked through clenched teeth. “You both have blood on you—”

“It’s not even mine,” Loras said softly. “It’s Jeyne’s.”

Jon stared at him, trying to process what the man had just said to him. “Wh—what?”

Sansa nodded and wiped at her eyes again. “Mrs. Tyrell miscarried, Jon. On my way to my parents’ home I saw Loras passing by on the road. He looked – well, he looked a mess, and I stopped the carriage so I could see what was wrong and…”

“And I told her I’d just lost my wife,” Loras finished. 

“What is going on out here?” Ned, Sansa’s father asked in annoyance as he rode up on his horse. “Sansa, what are—” And then he saw Loras. “Loras.”

Ned and Loras were friends, had been since Loras’ arrival as the Stark’s neighbor. Ned had assumed the role of the sage estate owner and had directed Loras in all aspects of running one. It was how Sansa had met Loras. 

Ned jumped off his horse and swallowed hard. “I was just at your home,” he said softly. “I got word that my help was needed. I expected to find you there…”

Loras shook his head as his eyes filled with tears. “I couldn’t bear it.”

“Sansa, what are you doing here?” Ned asked as he looked between Sansa, Jon, and Loras. 

“I was on my way to visit when I happened upon Loras. I offered to take him to you. After we passed here, I offered to take Loras back to his estate, but when we came upon it—”

“I told her to keep going,” Loras finished as he wiped a hand over his face wearily. “Sansa – excuse me, Mrs. Snow, was kind enough to tell the driver to keep going on the road I knew wound around to the backside of our houses.”

“I told Loras I could bring him here and that you’d help, that we’d all help. We can do that, right Father?” Sansa asked. 

Ned stared at Loras as though in disbelief. He truly was a sight – he looked weary, worn and yet there was something wild-looking about him. Sansa thought perhaps it was his disheveled appearance and the blood that adorned his shirt front, but it was more than that. It was the grief; it somehow made him seem rather unpredictable. She half-expected him to run off as he’d done from his estate, or demand another long ride in the carriage. 

Ned finally cleared his throat and nodded. “Of course, of course. Come to the house and we’ll get you set up with a bath and some food—”

“I’m not hungry,” Loras said. 

“I am,” Sansa said softly. 

Jon placed a hand on her shoulder. “Will you ride with me to the house?” he asked and nodded toward the horse he’d rode to them on. She nodded eagerly and then bit her lip and looked toward Loras. 

He smiled at her sadly and nodded toward her and Jon. “Go ahead, my dear.” She heard Jon suck in a breath and she knew that even despite the circumstances he did not like Loras calling her “my dear”, but he was tactful enough not to bring it up at the moment. 

Sansa looked back once more at Loras for assurance that he would be fine, even though it wasn’t a far ride to the house from where they were. They all could have walked the distance if they felt so inclined. Loras nodded and smiled at her faintly to assure her he would be fine. Jon lifted her on his horse and then climbed on after her, surrounding her with his strong arms as he took the reins. 

As soon as they reached the front of the Stark estate, Jon dismounted and then pulled Sansa down to the ground. His expression was unreadable and all the things she had wanted to say to him earlier seemed to have fled her mind. 

As they made their way up the stairs she finally found her voice and asked, “Did you ride out when you saw the carriage coming?”

He shook his head. “No, I was about ready to go searching for you.” He explained to her how he’d gone after her after learning she’d taken off for her parents, and how when he’d arrived her mother had begged him to wait an hour at least for her. “She told me that if you were with Loras at his estate then your father would bring you home.”

“I wasn’t going to see him alone, Jon,” she told him. 

“That so?”

She looked up at him sharply. “You don’t believe me?”

“Sansa, I am never quite sure what to expect from you and I know you’re not fond of adhering to my wishes.”

“That’s not fair. In fact, I will have you know—”

“Sansa! Oh, my dear, what has happened?” Catelyn exclaimed as soon as she saw her daughter. At the sight of the blood on Sansa’s dress, her eyes went wide with fright. “My Goodness, are you hurt?”

Robb flew down the stairs then to inquire after his sister and Sansa burst into tears. 

Catelyn drew Sansa into her arms and patted her back while Robb hugged Sansa awkwardly from behind. Jon looked on, unsure of what to do. His instinct when Sansa had begun to cry was to comfort her, but then Catelyn and Robb had taken over and he thought perhaps what she needed at that moment was the comfort only a mother could give. 

Sansa’s story of how she had been on her way to visit and had come upon a grief-stricken Loras came out in a jumble in Catelyn’s arms and by the time she’d finished Loras and Ned were entering the house. The servants were close behind with Sansa’s valise in tow. Ned gave them the directions they needed, sending a few footmen to the kitchen, two up the stairs with the valise along with her maid and then ordering them to the kitchen for a meal once they were done. 

Ned slapped Loras on the back and gestured to the stairs and rounded up his butler and a few servants milling about and awaiting instructions, to the stairs. “You need a bath and a change of clothes,” Ned told Loras as they started up the stairs. “Then we’ll talk.”

Catelyn gently pulled out of Sansa’s hug, disengaging Robb in the process, and deposited Sansa into Jon’s arms. Without having to think about what to do, Jon scooped Sansa up into his arms and nestled her against his chest. 

“Where is her room?”

“Second floor, third door on the left,” Catelyn told him. “I am going to see about having a hot bath prepared in Sansa’s former washroom and supper sent up to you both. Jon, would you like me to send a servant to send for some clothes?”

Jon frowned. “Too late now, I wager. Not safe to be out and about once it’s dark. I will be fine until morning.”

Catelyn nodded. “Then I will send a footman first thing in the morning.”

Jon inclined his head in a sort of bow and said, “Thank you, Catelyn.”

“Can we go upstairs now?” Sansa asked meekly, her words muffled by Jon’s shoulder. 

Jon chuckled and squeezed her into him. “Yes, my love.” He inclined his head again toward Robb and Catelyn.

Sansa’s maid was hurriedly preparing Sansa’s things about the room as she pulled them from her valise. Jon dismissed her and when the girl started to insist that she help her mistress, Jon told her rather firmly to go downstairs and get something to eat. “I am perfectly capable of taking care of my wife,” he told her. 

“Go,” Sansa told her wearily. “I will be fine with my husband.”

Her maid scurried out of the room, no doubt thrilled with the idea of being able to eat and not having a guilty conscience while doing it. 

Jon looked down at his wife who was cuddling up to his side and burying her face in his chest and he wrapped his arms about her and kissed her forehead, marveling at the change in her demeanor. She was _seeking_ his comfort, acting as though she _wanted_ him and had even told her maid that she would be fine with “her husband.” Typically when Sansa said “my husband” it was filled with scorn, but this time…this time it had fallen off her tongue as the most natural thing in the world. 

Though Jon wanted to hold her and cherish this moment for as long as she’d let him, he also could not bear to see that blood on her dress. It unnerved him. He knew it was not hers, but it not only disturbed him where it came from, but his mind kept drifting to Sansa being injured…to her befalling the same fate as Jeyne or when she’d taken that jump with Lady…

“Sansa, we need to get you out of that dress…and have it burned,” he rumbled in her ear gently. “I can’t stand the sight of blood on you even if I know it’s not yours.”

“When the bath is here,” she said quietly, tiredly. “Just hold me until it is ready, Jon.” She looked up at him, her eyes sad. “Please?”

He pressed a kiss of comfort to her lips and nodded. “Of course,” he whispered hoarsely.


	19. Chapter 19

Sansa’s bath was prepared quickly and once Jon had dismissed all the servants, he led her into the washroom and set about undressing her. She helped him discard the many layers a woman was required to don, and while undressing her bit by bit and revealing each patch of skin slowly was something Jon enjoyed, now he was eager and impatient to get rid of the bloodied dress. Her undergarments would follow the same fate as the dress. He wanted no reminders for her and, selfishly, for himself about this day. 

“I’m having it all destroyed,” he told her when at last she was naked. 

She looked up at him in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“I want no reminders for you or myself. I hope you have more than these for undergarments.”

She nodded, eyes wide. “Jon, that’s really not necessary. It was only the dress that was bloodied.”

“I don’t care. Every time you dress you will think of this day. Do you want that?”

She sighed and shook her head wearily. 

“Get in the bathtub, love,” he said softly. “I will have these taken care of.”

She slipped in the warm water and sighed decadently. Her eyes shut and she leaned back against the edge of the bathtub. Jon smiled at the sound as he gathered up her clothes and then stood there, watching her. 

He was hard – how could he not be with a nude Sansa? – but he didn’t plan on doing anything about it. Not that he didn’t want to, but she didn’t need his amorous attentions right now and truthfully, he was afraid to make love to her. The amount of blood on Loras’s shirtfront… Well, he feared making love to his wife and getting her pregnant. He would not be able to face the same fate as Loras had today. If anything happened to Sansa, not to mention the child they would have created together… God, he couldn’t think of it. 

A shudder went through him and so lost in his musings was he that he didn’t notice Sansa speaking to him until she was practically shouting his name. 

He jerked from his dark thoughts and looked at her, blinked. “Yes?”

“What are you doing just standing there like that?” she asked with her head tilted to the side. 

He cleared his throat and shook his head. “I will return shortly.” He walked out of the washroom, into her bedchamber and then to the door. He opened it, peered out, and found a maid coming down the hall. “I want these gotten rid of. Burned if possible,” he told the maid as he extended Sansa’s clothes in her direction. 

The maid, a pretty little thing with soft brown hair hurried over to him and took the heap of clothes for him. “Of course, sir.”

“Thank you,” he mumbled and then nodded curtly and shut the door and made his way back to Sansa. 

The scent of roses permeated the steamy air of the washroom and Jon smiled with the knowledge that Sansa’s skin would retain that heavenly scent. He often found himself wanting to bury his face in her skin just for the scent of her, and he planned tonight to do just that as he held her in bed.

She looked up at him drowsily, her hair now soaked – she must have washed it – and offered him a faint smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Have my garments been properly banished?” she asked. 

“Of course.” 

“Will you wash my back?” she asked and pushed herself up to the middle of the bathtub. She wound her arms around her legs and rested the side of her face on her knees as she looked over at him. 

He discarded his jacket and waistcoat and then pushed up the sleeves of his shirt and knelt by the bathtub. He grabbed the wet bar of soap that sat on the wooden stand next to the bathtub and dunked his hands with the soap in the warm water. After lathering his hands he dropped the soap in the water and ran his hands over Sansa’s smooth, alabaster back. He kneaded her muscles and she moaned and shut her eyes. 

“Feel good?” he asked huskily. 

“Yes,” she breathed. 

He continued his ministrations and then froze when she said, “I was going to come back.”

“Pardon?”

She peered over at him. “I was going to turn back when I saw Loras.”

He dipped his hands in the water to rinse them and said softly, “Lie back, and rinse your back.”

She did so, slowly, and then when she was leaning back against the edge again she looked up at him inquiringly. “Do you believe me?”

He sighed heavily as he looked at her and then shook his head. “I don’t know, Sansa.”

“You have no reason to,” she said knowingly. 

“Trust…it’s not something you and I have in large quantities.”

She bit her lip and nodded. “I know. But it is the truth nonetheless. I was about to knock on the top of the carriage to signal the driver when Loras went past.”

“Would you have truly not gone to see him alone?” 

She sighed and looked up at the ceiling. “I won’t lie; I thought about it.”

“But? And?”

She looked back at him and he was taken aback by the stark honesty and pain in her eyes. “And the only reason I would have done it was to spite you for making demands of me and acting like my keeper instead of a husband.”

“It’s my job to protect you, no? Not only your person but your reputation.”

She sighed and shook her head. “Jon, you didn’t want me to see Loras because it might ruin my reputation. You didn’t want me to see him because you’re jealous of him.”

Jon said nothing; he didn’t have to. “He’s free now,” he heard himself say. As soon as the words left his mouth, he cursed. 

“Do you honestly think that is what I am thinking about?” she demanded, wide-awake with her anger now. “That I would wish for him to be sunk into misery over the loss of his wife and child just so I could have him? That I would wish that fate on Jeyne and her unborn child?”

“No, Sansa, no—”

Her eyes welled up in tears and she pointed to the door. “I want you to go. Leave. Get out.”

He shook his head. “I can’t do that. You need me right now.”

“No, I don’t need you right now, and I can’t stand the sight of you. Get out.”

“Sansa—”

She rose from the water like Aphrodite emerging from the sea and she pointed to the door. “Leave me alone!” she screamed at him as tears spilled down her cheeks. “Go now before I shout the roof down!” 

She would too. He knew it. And though he had a feeling her parents would eventually intervene. She wanted him gone and so he would go. Not far, not back to his estate, but he would leave her until they had both cooled. 

Again, just when things had been going so well…

That’s what one got when one stuck one’s foot in their mouth. 

“I will leave, but please sit, before you slip and hurt yourself,” he said softly. 

She glared at him, one brow arched in defiance and he knew that until he left she wouldn’t move a muscle. 

He climbed to his feet, turned on a sigh and strode from the washroom and then her bedchamber. He sagged against her door and raked a hand through his hair. _Bloody brilliant, that,_ he thought miserably. 

He strode away from the door and made his way down to the drawing room. There would be liquor there; he knew it. As soon as he stepped inside, he stopped in his tracks and found his rival standing there, already washed and dressed and with a drink in his hand. 

Loras held out his glass, half full of what Jon assumed was brandy. “Drink?”

Jon considered his options and finally said, “Yes,” as he closed the door behind him.


	20. Chapter 20

“You are not upset with Sansa—er, Mrs. Snow— are you?” Loras asked as he handed Jon a glass of brandy. 

Jon accepted the drink and stared down at the liquid as though it would discern for him how to reply to that inquiry. 

“You warned me to stay away from her,” Loras continued as he sat down on the cushioned chair in front of the fireplace. “And I have. It was pure chance that she happened to come across me.”

“Where is Ned?” Jon asked, still staring down at the brandy. 

“He is speaking to Catelyn. She was rather distraught... He will be here momentarily I’m sure.” Loras sat back and leaned his head back against the chair. He looked up at the ceiling and shut his eyes briefly. “Pray, stay until he arrives, Mr. Snow. I rather do not wish to be left alone very long with my thoughts.”

Silently, Jon made his way to the chair opposite Loras’s and sat down, took a sip of his brandy and looked at Loras who was now looking back at him. 

“How is Mrs. Snow doing? She asleep?”

Jon cleared his throat and shook his head. “She was bathing when I left her.”

“Is she all right?”

“She’s tired…distraught.”

Loras nodded understandingly. “She’s a good friend, Mr. Snow. I don’t know what I would have done had she not happened upon me.”

“Friend,” Jon repeated softly. “Is that…?” He trailed off, considering the improperness of asking the man who had just lost his wife and unborn child if “friend” was all Sansa ever was to him. 

“Is that…?” Loras prompted. 

“You loved your wife very much, didn’t you?” Jon asked instead. 

Loras stared at him and his eyes welled up in tears. “Yes.”

“And when was that?”

“Last year at a ball.”

Jon’s eyes went wide. “Last year?”

Loras looked at him strangely. “Yes, why?”

“Sansa never mentioned Jeyne before you married her.”

Loras smiled wryly. “Your wife was never fond of Jeyne.”

“Is that why she never knew how you felt about Jeyne?”

“Partly. Also, I didn’t think I had a chance in hell at securing Jeyne’s hand. I played it rather close to my chest. You inspired me, Mr. Snow.”

Jon blinked. “Inspired you? How?”

“Well, surely you’d heard of my name linked with your wife’s before you came onto the scene, no?”

“You could say that,” Jon said dryly.

“I’m not proud to say it, but I was going to offer for Mrs. Snow…” He frowned. “I hadn’t any plans as to when though everyone expected it.” He shook his head, his expression regretful. “So did she. I rather think she cared for me.”

Jon stared at him in barely contained disbelief. Loras thought she simply _cared_ for him? The way he made it sound, Sansa had “cared” for him the way one would a pet! 

Loras looked at him sheepishly. “In fact, I think she believed herself in love with me.”

Jon wanted to add, _You think so? What gave it away?_ but he kept his mouth shut. 

“It would have been a mistake for the both of us,” Loras said quietly, startling Jon. Was it possible the man was not as dense as he’d thought? “Sansa has spirit,” Loras murmured and Jon decided not to call him on using her given name. “She is what men would call a spitfire…a passion for living that infects everyone around her.” He smiled somewhat wistfully. “Her fire would have burnt me out and she no doubt would have grown tired of me after a while, but I was willing to look beyond all those things because I cared for her well enough, but…but I didn’t love her. Not in the same way I was with my Jeyne.”

Jon cleared his throat and asked, “How did I inspire you again?”

Loras smiled and looked up at him. “Anyone could see how you loved Sansa, how you wanted her. And anyone could see that she felt the same about you. I’d never seen her come quite as alive as she did when she was next to you. You saw Sansa and that was it. You knew what – who – you wanted and you went after her. And then you proposed and I knew it was a sign.”

“A sign?”

“That I was meant to ask Jeyne to marry me. You’d saved Sansa and I from a fate that would have made us both miserable after a time and you took the one woman I would have considered instead of Jeyne. I had no choice but to finally ask my wife to, well, become my wife.”

“Forgive me for asking, but does Sansa know any of this?” 

Loras nodded and took a sip of his brandy. “I’m sure she does now. I spoke of nothing but Jeyne in the carriage. She was as surprised as you to learn I’d harbored feelings for Jeyne since last year.”

Jon clenched his jaw. He found himself in the most odd situation: of wanting to both thank Loras for telling Sansa the truth and wanting to punch him for leading her on thus. 

“You might have told Sansa how you truly felt before,” Jon said as calmly and as smoothly as he could muster. It wouldn’t do good to upset a man that had lost his family; it would be in bad taste. But he found he wanted to shake Loras for his stupidity and his cruelty – unintentional as it was. If indeed everyone had been talking about Loras and Sansa as a match – and it hadn’t been part of Sansa’s wishful thinking after all – then Sansa had had every reason to hope that Loras was literally about to ask for her hand any day. While Jon agreed with Loras’s assessment that they would have been ill-suited, he had literally stepped on the toes of Loras’s proposal. 

That, he supposed, was what he got for not bothering with what society gossiped about. Sansa had told him Loras was going to ask, but he hadn’t seen any real indication from Loras that he was besotted with Sansa and nor had he thought Loras had any real intention of proposing. In Jon’s opinion if Loras was going to ask Sansa to marry him then he would have already done so.

“Did I hurt her so terribly? Is she not happily Mrs. Snow now?” Loras asked. 

Jon gripped his glass so hard he thought he might shatter it in his bare hands. Loras hadn’t an inkling. Not a damn inkling. 

“She held a girl’s fancy for me, Mr. Snow, but it was not real love,” Loras said. “Surely you know that.”

And therein, Jon realized, laid the rub. Loras had disregarded Sansa’s feelings as a girl’s feelings, he himself had disregarded her feelings entirely and her father had given her to Jon without any regard for what she had wanted. 

Sansa had been made to feel as though her feelings didn’t matter. That they all knew what was better for her than she did. And while they might have been right in this particular scenario, it didn’t mean they’d always be right. It didn’t mean that Sansa could never be heard. 

“You do know that, don’t you?” Loras pressed. 

Jon didn’t reply; he couldn’t. 

“She loves you,” Loras whispered. “Any fool can see it.”

 _Then I am the biggest fool of them all,_ Jon thought miserably as he stood on unsteady legs and placed his glass down on the small table between he and Loras. “If you’ll excuse me, I wish to check on Sansa,” he said. 

It was at that moment that Ned entered and he took pause at the sight of Jon and Loras together. Jon nodded toward him and repeated his intention to check on Sanaa, and departed. 

He took the stairs two at a time in his haste to reach his wife. He didn’t know what to say to her exactly, he just knew that he had to see her. Hold her. Tell her he loved her and that he was sorry. Again. 

A roaring fire had been made, dinner sat on the table across the room, but Sansa was in bed, curled up on her side with the covers over her. She looked so vulnerable that Jon’s heart ached. 

Stripping down to just his breeches, Jon climbed into the bed beside her and gathered her in his arms. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and whispered, “I love you, Sansa.”

“Jon?” she murmured as she stirred. 

“I’m here,” he whispered. “Please don’t tell me to go.”

She blinked up at him, looking tiredly perplexed and said, “Do you think we should give up…separate?” It was as though she had been thinking of that exact thought before sleep had claimed her and when she’d wakened, she’d picked up where she’d left off. 

“No,” he whispered fiercely. “We don’t give up. We _never_ give up.”

She nodded and said, “All right.” She snuggled into his side, resting her head upon his chest under his chin. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close. “I love you, Sansa. And I will fight for you. For us.” He shut his eyes to keep the tears threatening to come at bay. “I just need you to fight for us too.”

She did not reply for she was already back to sleep.


	21. Chapter 21

“Jon, wake up!”

Jon’s eyes snapped open and then widened when he found Sansa straddling him in bed. She looked frantic, wild, and scared out of her mind. Her hands were at his shoulders and her nails were digging into his skin. 

“Sansa, what are you doing? What is going on?” he asked groggily as he placed his hands on her hips and squeezed. Her grip on him lessened, but the look in her eyes was haunted. Her night rail was pushed up to her waist and the ties at the top had given way, causing the material to hang dangerously low. He could see the curve of her breast and he forced his eyes up to hers. “Sansa?”

She collapsed against him, whimpering and burying her face in the crook of his neck. “You wouldn’t wake up,” she moaned. “I couldn’t wake you up. I thought you broke your neck.”

His brows flew up and his eyes went wide. “Broke my…Sansa, love, did you dream I broke my neck?”

He felt his skin growing damp and he realized with considerable surprise that she was _crying_. Over _him_ . “Sansa, I’m all right, sweetling. I was just sleeping like you. Though my dreams were a sight better than yours.” In truth, he’d been dreaming of her, growing with his child. And she’d been healthy and happy, positively beaming at him. 

He wrapped his arms around her and shifted them until they were on their sides, their legs entwined. She buried her face in his chest and Jon lifted her chin with his finger and began peppering her face with soft kisses to calm her. “I’m all right, sweetling,” he crooned repeatedly. “I’m alive and well.”

When his mouth found the corner of hers, she turned her head just so and their lips met. She kissed him hungrily and clutched at him as she pressed her body against his and rubbed.

Jon felt himself getting lost in the feel of Sansa and her apparent need for him, and it would have been so easy to fall into her – it had been far too long without being inside her and he felt starved for her, but he did not want to take advantage of her distress over a dream to make love to her. He wanted her sure of what she was doing and in her right mind. 

“Sansa, stop, stop, stop,” he commanded softly and pulled back from her. 

She blinked up him. “What is it?”

“Sweet, I want you, I do. But you had a bad dream and you’re seeking comfort. I will not take advantage of you when you’re clearly upset and not quite awake.” Jon patently refused to mention that a dream in which he had broken his neck would have _not_ been a nightmare for her at all at one point, and he wondered when the change had occurred. He also refrained from leaping out of bed and doing a hearty jig at the elation of her distress over him. Somehow he didn’t think she’d appreciate it and for another, his erection wouldn’t allow him to do so. It was straining hard against his breeches and though he did not wish to take advantage of her in her upset, he thoroughly hoped she would dispel that belief and allow him to make love to her. 

She stared at him and then said, “I am awake” before fusing her mouth to his. 

Jon groaned and took command of the clumsily heated kiss. He rolled her onto her back and hovered over her, bracing himself on his elbows as he gazed down at her flushed face. “Are you sure?” he asked. _Please say yes, please, please, please say yes!_

“Yes,” she whispered and, keeping her eyes firmly on his, reached between them to unfasten his breeches. 

He cursed when she fumbled with the buttons and he rolled to the side to dispose of them as quickly as possible. His erection sprang free as though elated to be set free. 

Jon rolled back to her, settling between her thighs, and found her struggling with her night rail. He took her wrists in each hand and stilled her. She looked up at him as though afraid he’d tell her he’d changed his mind. _Not bloody likely_ , he thought. 

He got up on his knees between her legs and pulled her up into sitting position. With extreme care and gentleness, helped her lift and then dispose of her night rail. When she was blessedly nude under his gaze, she lay back down and reached for him. Jon didn’t need to be asked twice. 

He stretched out beside her and took one pert breast in his mouth while teasing the other with his fingers. She moaned and writhed under his ministrations and buried her fingers in his hair. 

Rolling completely on top of her, Jon lavished attention on her other breast and then kissed his way down her body. He dipped his tongue into her belly button, nibbled at her hips and then spread her legs and reverently made love to her core with his mouth. He imitated what he planned to do to her with his cock with his tongue and when she pulled his hair just hard enough to gain his attention, he knew she was ready for him. 

He climbed back up her body, braced himself on his elbows and gazed down at her as his cock nudged at her entrance. “Will you put me inside you?” he asked raggedly. 

She nodded and reached down between them to grasp his cock. He moaned and shut his eyes as she placed him at her entrance. He slid inside her hot and wet sheath and he groaned. 

“Jon,” she whispered. 

His eyes popped open and he looked down at her. She bestowed upon him the most beautiful smile to have ever graced her lips. The smile from his dream. His breath caught and he leaned down to claim her lips as his hips began to move. 

Sansa was no passive lover. Her hands were in constant motion, seeming everywhere on his body at once. Jon responded in kind as he lowered himself over her. He stroked and caressed with his hands while loving her mouth with his and steadily pumping inside her with his cock. 

He knew she was close to release when she tore her mouth from his and gasped, “Jon!” Good thing she was close, because his own orgasm was imminent and he wanted her to find her release before he did. He lifted up onto his elbows and moved harder and faster inside her. 

Her eyes rolled back, her back arched and she clutched at his shoulders, shouting his name as she came. God, she was glorious when she found her release. The sight had Jon spewing his in her a minute later. He saw stars behind his eyes and he thought for one fearful second that he might swoon from the power of it. 

He collapsed against her and she wrapped her arms and legs around him, holding him close in a way she had never done before. Jon moved them to their sides but would not let go of her. He felt…Good Lord, he felt as though he wanted to cry. This was the first time he and Sansa had ever made love _together_. He had made love to her plenty of times – at least that’s what he called it and considered it, but he knew it hadn’t been that for her. For her, it was simply intercourse. She responded to him in passion, but as she had been so kind to point out before her body “betrayed her” into acting thus. 

This time she had sought him out. Initiated the most passionately mind-bending experience of his life. Too overwhelmed and full of emotion to speak, all he could do was hold her against him and breathe her in. Silently, he thanked her and thanked whatever benevolent being allowed him such a gift. 

And then, just before she grew lax in his arms and drifted back into slumber he heard her whisper, “I love you.”


	22. Chapter 22

It took a rather long time for Jon to finally fall asleep after Sansa’s confession of love. He’d stared at her for several minutes after wondering if he’d imagined those words he’d so longed to hear. 

And then he’d warred with himself over waking her up. She’d had a long, rough day and was in need of rest. Waking her up to ask her if she’d meant what she said would be selfish of him. Of course, then he began to wonder if perhaps she had even realized she’d said it and then, horror of horrors – did she really mean _him_? Or had she been thinking of Loras?

However, she had initiated their love making. She had been upset over her nightmare in which he had broken his neck and she had started the whole thing. Even when he’d given her a way out, she hadn’t stopped. She had been persistent. In fact, she had rather clumsily seduced him. 

So those words, they _had_ to be for him and even if they were remnants of a dream then that must mean that in some way, some secret way, she loved him…right?

But then there was the sleepy question she’d put to him when he’d returned to their bed after his conversation with Loras: Should they separate? Did that mean she wanted to? Or did she feel as he did, that no matter what they did they always seemed to end up hurting one another? Did their intensely passionate love-making put an end to her thoughts on separation? 

And again: Did she mean it when she said she loved him? Did she even realize she’d said it?

The questions went round and round in his mind until he was too exhausted from the very long day and fell into a restless, dreamless sleep. And when he awoke, Sansa was gone. 

His thoughts heavy that her departure from their shared bed before him meant that she regretted last night, that she didn’t love him after all and that she did wish for a separation, Jon prepared for the day. As promised, a valise of his belongings had arrived for him and so he bathed and dressed in fresh clothes. 

Upon questioning the manservant who tended to him, Jon learned that it was quite late in the day. Nearly noon. This gave him some hope. Since he had slept that late then perhaps Sansa hadn’t left him because she wanted to, but because she just couldn’t wait any longer. 

Upon further questioning, Jon learned that Sansa, her mother, father, Robb, and Loras had left for Loras’s estate to begin the proceedings for a funeral. Sansa’s other siblings were in the care of their nanny for the time being. 

Sansa and Catelyn were helping to rally the servants for Loras’s benefit and to prepare the house for mourning. Ned and Robb were helping him take care of the practical matters of his wife’s death: sending word to her family and procuring the necessary clergyman to perform the funeral, plus helping him sort through any of the loose ends that came with a spouse having passed away. 

Jon did not like having been left behind, though he supposed there wasn’t much for him to do. It wasn’t as though he and Loras were good friends. They weren’t friends at all. But he would have liked to have been there for Sansa. She had obviously been struck by Jeyne’s death and Loras’s grief. 

As he came down the stairs to partake of a quick breakfast, he heard the distinct sound of someone crying. He strained to hear where it was coming from and was able to ascertain it came from the drawing room. He crept to the door and peered inside. 

Bran sat huddled on a chaise, his shoulders shaking. 

Jon frowned. He didn’t know Sansa’s brother very well, had only met him on a handful of occasions. Despite how much Jon wanted to quickly break his fast and have his horse readied for a trip to Loras’s estate, he knew he could not leave the boy in such a state. He was, after all, family now. It was his job as Bran’s brother-in-law to soothe his distress. Or at least try to. 

“Bran?” he said softly as he entered the drawing room quietly. 

The eleven-year-old boy looked up his wet eyes widened at the sight of him. His shoulder length brown hair fell in his face and the boy brushed it away. “Oh, Mr. Snow, I am sorry you have to see me like this!”

Jon shook his head and made his way to the chaise. He sat down next to him, reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and extracted a handkerchief. He handed it to Bran and Bran accepted it gratefully. “Care to tell me what has you so upset?” he asked softly.

“Death,” Bran said mournfully and then blew his nose loudly into his handkerchief. 

Jon frowned. Death. Made sense that would be what occupied the young lad’s mind, and it made him wonder and worry about how Sansa was faring being quite surrounded by it at Loras’s estate. 

“What about death?” he asked. 

“Jeyne’s death, er, Mrs. Tyrell’s death—”

“It is quite all right that you call her by her given name,” Jon told him. “I know that your family and the Tyrell’s are close friends. And please, call me Jon. We are family after all.”

Bran sent him a watery smile and nodded. “Jeyne’s death was so sudden. She simply lay down for a nap and…and then... gone. Just like that.”

“Death is not something easily understood or explained, Bran,” Jon said softly. 

“I started to think about my mother and father. And Sansa and my other siblings. How at any minute they could be taken away. I keep thinking of how mean I was to Sansa before she married you and moved away. What if something had happened to her after I’d been so awful and I never got to tell her how much I loved her? What if something happened to my mother? Or my father? He is so fond of riding – what if he was thrown from the horse? It happened once and he’d broken his leg…what if next time it was his neck?”

Jon’s mind went to Sansa on Lady and his fears of her being thrown off and breaking her neck. He shuddered at the thought and one hand clenched into a fist. He then thought of all the terrible rows he and Sansa had had…what if just like Bran had wondered she had been hurt after? What if the carriage had overturned the day before while on her way to her parents or while with Loras? What if she’d been pinned beneath it and died? While he knew he could not shut her away in her bedchamber and never let her leave for fear that something could happen to her, the need to do so was strong. 

He couldn’t live without Sansa. It was as simple and as difficult as that. She owned him, every part of him, and in that moment he knew that even if she did want a separation he would find it very difficult to grant it. He needed her very presence the way he needed air to breathe. 

“Bran, you must not think of what could happen,” he said slowly, even though he knew his words were hollow in light of his traitorous thoughts and fears. “All you can do while on this Earth is cherish the time you do have with your loved ones. Let them know in small ways every day how much you love them. When they leave, you tell them, when you depart for bed, you tell them. You enjoy the time you have with them, but do not live in fear. You cannot let it rule you.” He thought of Sansa and her defiance every time he grew overbearing with his need to protect her. “And you can’t smother them with that fear.” He then thought of how Sansa had heeded his wishes about taking jumps with Lady and had respected his wishes and not taken it the last time she had been out with her horse. “You can’t control them. You have to let them make their own choices.”

Bran stared at him. “Are we still talking about death?”

Jon smiled weakly. “Yes…and no.”

Bran cocked his head to the side and his gray eyes watched Jon closely. “Are you all right, Jon?”

Jon smiled and nodded, feeling too full of emotion to speak. He knew what he had to do. He had to relinquish his tendency to control Sansa and let her make her own choices. He had laid his heart and his desires out to her. She knew what he wanted; she knew he loved her beyond reason. This time she had to come to him. He couldn’t push her. He had to wait now. And hope like the devil that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. Last night she had chosen him. In the light of day she could have changed her mind, but it would not be wise to demand her attention and hound her for answers she might not be ready to give. 

Wait. He had to wait. 

It just might kill him. 

“Bran? Jon?”

The pair looked over their shoulder and found Catelyn bustling into the room, the space between her brows creased with worry. “My dear boy, what is the matter?”

Jon stood and smiled gently at Catelyn. “I believe Bran has a few things he wishes to say to you, Catelyn.” He looked down at Robb. “Am I right, Bran?”

Bran smiled and nodded. 

“Where is Sansa?” Jon asked. 

“She’s gone up to her bedchamber,” Catelyn murmured and seated herself beside Bran, who wound his arms around his mother. 

Jon murmured his pardon and took the stairs two at a time to the second floor. Sure he had promised himself to give Sansa space, but only after he saw how she was faring. She had been surrounded by death all morning and he knew it had to have affected her. He would not push any issues from the night before but simply let her know that he was there if she needed him. 

He let himself inside the bedchamber and found her sitting on the bed, weeping into her hands. She looked up as he shut the door and then got up and ran across the room to him. He caught her in his arms and stumbled back when she threw her arms around him. 

He wound his arms around her and murmured words of comfort against her temple as he stroked her back. She looked up at him, her eyes glittering with tears. Just as he was about to ask what she was thinking, she pressed her lips to his and started pulling at his cravat. 

Her hands were everywhere, frantic and hurried as she set out to undress him. Jon was powerless to resist her advances. If this was what she needed, then by God he would give it to her. Her need and desire to be joined fueled his own need and desire to feel that connection again from the night before. He undressed her as quickly and as hastily as she undressed him. He thought perhaps he might have ripped her dress in the process, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except getting it off her. 

They toppled onto the bed together, naked and ready. Sansa climbed over him the way she had the night before and guided him inside her the way he had once shown her. She rode him at a gallop, her eyes pinned to his the entire time. When her climax came, she cried out and held herself rigid over him. He flipped her onto her back and thrust hard until he found his own release. When he reached completion, he held her to him and devoured her lips with his. He then rolled them to their sides, still joined, and pressed kisses to her face at random. 

She looked up at him with wide blue eyes, wet with unshed tears. 

“Sansa, my love,” he whispered brokenly, hating the sight of her tears. 

She burrowed into him and held him tight. “Don’t leave me,” she whispered. 

“Never,” he vowed on a whisper.

Within minutes she was asleep and again Jon stayed awake, wondering what it all meant.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter after this to go!

**One month later**

Jon watched from the window of his study as Sansa made her way up the walk to the house. He was worried about her. She’d been taking a lot of walks in lieu of riding Lady as of late which was completely unlike her. He had never seen a woman enjoy riding more than his wife and he wondered if she still carried with her the nightmares that had followed after Jeyne’s death. For some time after she’d awoken at least three times a week having one dream or another of him or her befalling some ill-fated death. 

Each bad dream led to her seeking his comfort. Sometimes it involved them making love, and sometimes it was just a matter of her needing to be held. No matter what it was she needed, Jon was more than willing to comply. 

He just wished he knew what it meant. He still had no answers. One month after Jeyne’s death and the dust had settled. There was no talk about continuing to try or separating, there was only some kind of…going on. Sansa returned home with him and though their typical heated arguments had ceased a kind of uncertainty had taken over. Unless they were in bed, neither seemed to know how to proceed with the other. Conversation was friendly yet stilted; often times it seemed they didn’t know how to talk to each other at all. Jon was beginning to fear that arguing was the only way they knew how to relate to one another, and without it they had nothing. 

Yet there were words he wanted to say to her. He wanted to tell her how much he loved her, how happy he was that she hadn’t sought a separation, and mostly he wanted to ask her how she felt, what she wanted, and if she was happy. But the words clogged in his throat and out of fear of pushing her, he remained silent and waited for her to guide him…except she didn’t seem to know what to say to him either. 

As his thoughts had drifted, Jon realized that Sansa was no longer on the path and was probably now inside the house. He decided to find her and ask her why she hadn’t taken Lady out for a ride over the past week. Perhaps she was ill. He frowned. Come to think of it, she hadn’t had much of an appetite lately and she had been looking quite worn out. She’d been going to bed early every night and sleeping soundly – even snoring a little. 

He turned to make his way out of his study when she appeared in the doorway. “Hello,” she murmured. 

He smiled gently at her. “Hello, my love. How was your walk?”

She nodded. “Good.” She held up her hand in which she several pieces of paper clutched in it. “I received a letter from Gilly. I went to my favorite spot and read it.”

“And how is she?”

“Well.” She smiled wistfully. “Happy.”

Jon cleared his throat, not sure how to respond to that. “I was about to come and find you…”

“Oh?”

“You haven’t been riding Lady lately I’ve noticed. Are you feeling all right?”

She cast her eyes to the floor and bit her lip, the space between her brows crinkling. That did not bode well. “Sansa?” he asked with trepidation. 

She looked up at him and gestured to the chaise that sat in the middle of the room. “Can we sit?”

He nodded and mutely made his way to the chaise. He sat and looked up at her, watched her make her way over and then sat down next to him. His heart thudded hard in his chest. Had she been thinking of a separation after all? Was this it? Was she bored of him?

“Jon, the past month has been…different.”

He nodded in agreement and waited for her to continue. 

“We haven’t been arguing and I am thankful for that, but I’ve noticed a…well, I’ve noticed a strain between us.”

“I’ve noticed it too,” he croaked. 

She licked her lips and twisted her hands in her lap. “It’s my fault.”

He blinked and opened his mouth to ask what she meant, but no words came forth. 

She looked up at him with those big blue eyes of hers and studied him for a long while. “I haven’t been honest with you. Things changed after Jeyne’s death and I never bothered to let you in on what had changed. With me, specifically.”

“Oh?” was all he managed to say. 

“Do you remember when I told you that before I found Loras I was about to turn the carriage around and come back home to you?”

“Yes.”

“That was the truth. I had every intention of doing so because you see I realized that I didn’t want to fight anymore with you. I didn’t want to spend the rest of our lives at one another’s throats and I was coming to see you to hopefully put an end to it.”

“Put an end…? Do you mean you were coming back to tell me you wanted a separation?” Fear choked him and made the words difficult to pass through his lips. He gripped the chaise under him until his knuckles turned white. 

“No,” she said softly. “I was going to tell you that I was falling in love with you and that I wanted to get back to trying.”

He stared at her, speechless, in shock. 

“It wasn’t until later that I realized I had been in love with you all along. I was just too full of anger and hurt to acknowledge it. That day I found Loras…he told me about Jeyne. About how they’d met, how he had always been in love with her.”

“I know,” Jon croaked. “He told me the same story.”

“He did?”

“That night, when we fought and you ordered me from the room…”

She nodded curtly. “Right.”

“He told me everything.”

“Then you know I was his consolation prize.”

“Yes,” he whispered. 

“I’m sorry.”

He looked up at her in surprise. Her eyes were filled with tears and she looked positively regretful. “What—why? What for?”

“For having treated you so abysmally. If Loras had proposed to me I would have been condemned to a life with a man that didn’t love me, and I know now that in time I would have realized that I didn’t love him. Not the way I had fallen in love with you. I loved Loras as a young girl; I love you as a fully grown woman. I think back on that first night we met and I remember how I felt something…click, inside me. I was too stupid and too stubborn to realize that you were the one all along.”

Jon reached out and grasped her twisting hands in his and brought them to his mouth. He shut his eyes briefly as he kissed them. “Sansa, God, I can’t – I never thought I’d hear—” Words escaped him in the face of his joy and overwhelming emotion. She loved him!

“I haven’t known how to tell you,” she said as she slipped her hands from his grasp and caressed the side of his face. “These past few weeks I haven’t been able to put it into words…I don’t…I don’t know why. Perhaps because I spent so long not saying it…”

“I didn’t tell you for the longest time,” he admitted. “You had no way of knowing how I’d truly felt until I couldn’t keep it in any longer.”

“Well, I don’t want to keep it in any longer. I don’t want this sickening politeness and walking on eggshells for fear of saying the wrong thing to one another that has been happening here the past month. I want – I want us to talk about things. The way it was when you would call me on me and we’d talk about everything and anything. We were friends then, were we not?”

Jon nodded adamantly. “Yes, yes, we were.”

“I want my friend back,” she whispered. “I love you, Jon.”

He dragged her across the chaise and onto his lap and began dotting her face with kisses. 

“Every time we made love I was telling you,” she told him. “It’s important that you know that, Jon. It was only you I wanted. Only you that I needed. The thought of losing you…of something happening to you…”

“Sansa, no, nothing will happen to me—”

“I’m pregnant.”

He froze and looked at her. “Pardon?”

“I’m pregnant. I haven’t had my monthlies since last month and I wrote to my mother and she—she told me I had all the signs.”

Jon cupped her face in his hands and gazed at her imploringly. “Are you scared?”

“Terrified,” she admitted. 

“This is why you haven’t been riding Lady?”

“Yes. I’ve been corresponding with Gilly and she—she told me I had to tell you. Not just about being pregnant, but everything.”

“I’m so very glad you did,” he breathed as he drew her face to his and pressed his forehead against hers. 

“You don’t mind that I confided in her?”

“Not at all. I’m glad that you have her to confide in.”

She smiled and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “I love you, Jon.”

“And I love you,” he whispered hoarsely. “And I’m going to spend every day of my life showing you just how much.”

“All I want is to be able to share my worry over this pregnancy with you. Promise me that if something happens to me—”

“ _Nothing_ is going to happen to you, Sansa,” he told her fiercely. 

“Just listen,” she said and pressed a finger to his mouth. “Promise me that if I make it to the birth, but something happens to me _during_ the birth, you will do everything to save the baby.”

“I will do everything to save you both.”

“Jon, please, promise me.”

“You ask much of me, Sansa,” he whispered. “I fear I would not fare any better than Loras should anything happen to you.”

“Will you try?”

He kissed her quickly. “I will try. I will get the best doctors I can and make sure nothing happens to you at all during this pregnancy, my love. Do not worry yourself, you will be fine. I will make sure of it.” He placed his hand over her belly and smiled up at her. “You will grow large with my child growing inside you and you’ll give birth without any complications. We’ll have a family. A family of our own. And when you’re ready, we’ll have another and another and another…”

She laughed and embraced him tightly. “Let us get through this one first, and then we’ll discuss those others.”

“Do you have any pressing matters to attend to right now?” he asked. 

“No, why?” 

He smiled lovingly at her. “Because I want to sit with my wife and have a chat.”

She smiled. “About?”

“Anything you want, my heart, anything you want.”


	24. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have come to the end! Thank you very much to all of you who read and reviewed, or just read, this story! :)

Epilogue

“Are you having another birthing pain?” Gilly whispered discreetly to Sansa as they trailed behind Sam and Jon on their way back from a walk around the Snow estate. 

Sansa nodded and bit her lip hard as a birthing pain rocked through her body and very nearly stole her breath. 

“Have you told Jon yet?” Gilly asked. 

Sansa shook her head and placed her hand over her side, wincing and slowing her speed. Gilly and Sam had come for a visit with their own little one Gilly had given birth to one-month prior. Apparently when Gilly and Sam had last visited, Gilly had not been aware of her condition. Thankfully, Sansa was able to learn much and assuage many fears after corresponding with Gilly about her pregnancy and the birth.

“You need to tell him now, Sansa,” Gilly hissed. 

Sansa held up a finger, signaling for Gilly to wait. While she was still fearful of giving birth, she had a fair idea from Gilly’s telling of what to expect. Jon, however, had spent her confinement becoming her shadow and watching over every little thing she did for fear of her health. He admitted he was terrified of her giving birth despite how Gilly and Sam both tried to assuage him. For that reason, Sansa did not want to drive him mad any longer than necessary by telling him she was experiencing the tell-tale signs of child birth. 

“You cannot wait much longer. The pains are getting closer and closer together. We need time to send for the midwife,” Gilly told her. 

“The midwife has been set up in a cottage not a mile from here,” Sansa whispered. “Jon had one sent here not long after I told him I was pregnant.”

Gilly grinned. “He wasted no time.”

“Or expense,” Sansa told her. “The cottage had been falling apart and was in desperate need of repairs. He had it fixed up so fast my head spun.”

Gilly giggled. “Oh, I can understand now why you didn’t want to tell him of your pain yet.”

“What are you two whispering about back there?” Sam asked as he and Jon turned and faced their wives with conspiratorial grins. 

Sansa opened her mouth to tell them it was nothing when another pain shot through her and she could not keep herself from nearly doubling over. Gilly was right. It was time. 

"Sansa?" Jon asked worriedly as he came forward. "What is wrong?"

"Labor pains," she managed to squeak out. "It's time, Jon."

He paled in an instant and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. He drew her close and murmured, "Would it help if I carried you the rest of the way to the house?"

"Certainly not!" she burst out. "Jon, I'm as large as our home. You cannot carry me all the way back!"

"I can, my love, and I will if it will help you."

"No, no, let me walk. I need to focus on something other than...oh, dear. I believe my dress is now sodden."

Looking down, Jon noted it indeed was. He felt his heart drop to his feet. "Sansa?"

"It is time now for certain!" Gilly exclaimed. "We need to hurry back before she has the babe here. Sam, darling, how fast can you run to the house from here and collect the midwife?"

"Very fast indeed, my dear," Sam said, ready to take flight. "Why don't you join me, Jon?"

Jon shook his head. "I'm not leaving Sansa."

"Jon, you look about ready to toss up your accounts. Go with Sam, it will give you something to focus on while I tend to Sansa," Gilly said calmly. 

"I am not leaving my wife," Jon growled and started to pull Sansa forward toward the house.

“Jon, perhaps Gilly and Sam are right,” Sansa protested. 

Jon turned to her and faced her directly, his eyes glowing in their intensity. “Sansa Snow, we have been over this already. I am not leaving your side during the birth of our child. I don’t care how ‘unseemly’ it is for a husband to be in the same room while his wife gives birth. You are not getting rid of me.”

She smiled weakly and caressed the side of his face tenderly. “I love you, Mr. Snow.”

He leaned in and kissed her quickly, fiercely. “And I love you, Mrs. Snow. Let’s go.”

**********

One Year Later

"And your Papa did stay with Mama the whole time," Sansa told her one-year old son Aegon as she rocked him to sleep for his afternoon nap. Aegon blinked up at his mother tiredly and his eyelids began to droop. "Your father rather drove your Aunt Gilly mad, and I will admit that he drove me mad as well." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "But don't tell your Papa that. He thinks he was a help."

"Now he knows he wasn't."

Sansa looked up and scowled at her husband standing in the doorway, watching her with a grin. "Jon, you shouldn't be eavesdropping. It's rude."

He sauntered in and shrugged. "I wasn't eavesdropping. I was watching my very beautiful wife rock our son to sleep and then you started talking."

She shot him a mock disapproving look and then stood when Aegon's eyes stayed shut. She placed him in his crib and covered him with his blanket. Jon came up beside her and they watched their son sleep together. Jon reached out and looped an arm about her waist, drawing her close, and Sansa rested her head on his shoulder. 

"I drove you and Gilly mad, huh?" he asked softly. 

"A little. But you took my mind off my own worries by making me worry about how you were doing," she admitted. 

"You know I couldn't bear to lose you," he whispered and pressed a kiss to her temple.

“You never will,” she promised. 

He smiled and then turned toward the door and pulled her with him. Once in the hall, Sansa nodded to Mary, the nanny, and Mary went back inside the nursery. Unlike most mothers in society, Sansa preferred to spend as much time with her son as possible, as did Jon. Only when pressing matters called her away did Sansa leave her son behind with Mary. She and Jon did not adhere to the rule that children should only be see and not heard, nor did they believe in having a “viewing” once or twice a day of their child. Aegon was with them quite often throughout the day. 

“Jon, we have guests downstairs,” Sansa said as Jon led her down the hall to their bedchamber. “Where are you taking me?”

“Gilly has everything well in hand down there,” Jon told her. “Loras and your father are drinking their port and discussing estate matters while your mother is listening to Sam regale them with stories of the city. We have time.”

“Time for what?”

Jon grinned as he pulled her into their bedchamber and closed the door behind them. He pulled his wife into his arms and kissed her soundly. “Time for me to love my wife.”

She laughed softly and leaned up for a kiss. ‘You love your wife every night.”

“And every day,” he murmured against her lips as he took her face in his hands. “Every day for the rest of my life.”

“Thank you,” she whispered urgently and kissed him fiercely. 

“For what, my heart?”

“For never giving up on me,” she said and looked up at him with those big blue eyes that never failed to make Jon weak in the knees. 

He smiled and pressed his forehead against hers. “Never, Sansa. You are in my heart and in my soul. I would never give up on you. Thank _you_ for not giving up on me.”

“Never,” she whispered and then set about undressing her husband.


End file.
